


Petrichor

by larryandgaystuff (cnd8544)



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, I don't really know what's going to happen but I can promise you a happy ending, I promised you fluffy smut and I delivered, I'll say it again HAPPY ENDING, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, break-up, crying and laughing during sex, it's gonna get really fluffy just hang in there, nothing too intense but please ask if you need any trigger warnings, their families are in this too, they kind of share that really, to be accompanied by self-care and abundances of fluffiness, very brief/minimally intense incidences of self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 61
Words: 140,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9979073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnd8544/pseuds/larryandgaystuff
Summary: My wonderful group chat babes handed me a sparkling fic idea, so here it is!Louis moves back home after graduating from college and finds out that Harry hasn’t changed much in the ways that matter and neither have his feelings for him.  His hair is longer and his voice is deeper and he now owns the bakery where they worked as kids.  But his eyes are just as bright and his dimples are just as beautiful and he’s still everything Louis wants.  Niall and Liam basically help them both get their shit together because what else is new.This is the first time I'm actually sticking with a fic, so it might get away from me a bit because I'm excited.Update:  This happened.  This summary isn't very comprehensive anymore, but the general idea is the same.  There's just a lot more history, a lot more angst, a lot more sex, and a few more friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently editing this work, so things will be moved around a bit! Sorry for any inconvenience. :)
> 
> Wanna make my day? Chat with me in the comments or on [Tumblr](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com/ask)! Please feel free to reblog my [post](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com/post/164987528959/petrichor-by-larryandgaystuff-140k-complete) for this fic if you love reading it as much as I loved writing it!
> 
> My lovely friend [Clara](https://twitter.com/louistsafe?s=09) is currently translating Petrichor into Portuguese! Find it [here](http://www.wattpad.com/story/106652501?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=louistsafe&wp_originator=psQPJquEbXdgkZYLzi7Z6bfivpuDVyuOJwDwNIXFDSxdxcTVpLcHIRler1vlijKBBA3nenwVIFrZ7115rFc7svxKGS9caef6WvOQBzH%2FgBIGukTZpwht7WgJTheLTdwD&_branch_match_id=384464919090372259), and give her some love!

_Ten minutes. Just long enough for tea and something sweet. Then I’ll go._

Louis Tomlinson walks up to the small shop he knows so well, charming as always but vaguely threatening now.  _Petrichor_ , the sign reads in loopy handwriting painted in a deep teal. A twinge of sadness shoots through his heart as he looks at the sign in confusion. He had no idea the shop had changed hands. That must be what happened, though. Madeleine would not have changed the name, he knows, for it was named for her late husband. The love of her life.

Speaking of.

He’s probably not even here. Madeleine clearly isn’t. He probably left when she did. Or when the new owners came in and changed everything. He doesn’t work here anymore.

Closing his eyes one final time and taking a deep breath, he opens the door and crosses the threshold, bell tinkling overhead and the smell of vanilla and the past surrounding him. He doesn’t know which is sweeter.

He’s not really surprised by how strongly the smell of the shop is affecting him. It’s exactly the same. What is surprising is that everything else in the shop looks exactly as it had five years ago. He left one night, an eighteen-year-old boy, after putting those old, wooden chairs up on the clean tables, and the only difference now is that someone else had placed them back on the floor this morning. He realizes suddenly that upon seeing the new sign, he’d expected more changes. But everything is exactly as he’d left it that night.

 _Well, there is one thing missing_ , his brain so graciously responds.  _Someone._

Pulling himself together as much as he can manage, he takes a few hesitant steps toward the counter. That damn counter which should not make it this hard to breathe. It’s such a stupid looking counter, with glitter poured all over it from so many years ago. And stickers. There are so many stupid stickers on that damn counter. There are two people waiting in line before him, and he can’t stop the memories from coming as he waits impatiently.

_“Lou! Ah, no! Louis, stop!”_

_“Surrender, and I’ll let you out of here alive!”_

_Both of them are giggling and out of breath, running around the shop after just having locked up for the night. Louis is looking at him and the boy is looking right back, frantic excitement in his eyes. Louis takes a step toward him, waving his burnt baguette sword menacingly, and he shrieks. He actually shrieks, and Louis pounces._

_“Victory is mine,” he announces dramatically as he drops his weapon and seizes the boy in a hug, twirling him once then holding him just tight enough for his feet to stay off the floor. The boy is laughing out loud, and Louis leans back enough to see his eyes shut tight and his curly hair bouncing with their movement. He is beautiful._

_When Louis starts yelling that escape is impossible, the boy laughs even harder. Louis loses his footing from holding the weight of another person, who isn’t helping the situation with his flailing limbs and raucous laughter, and loosens his grip. The boy takes advantage of this momentary weakness and ducks out of his embrace to run to the closet behind the counter of all places. Louis is bewildered until he notices what the boy grabbed in his mad dash._

_“Don’t you dare,” he weakly threatens through his labored breathing. Wild smiles are plastered across both of their faces._

_“Let me go, and I will spare you the chore of washing glitter out of your hair for three hours.” The boy’s eyes are sparkling more than that glitter ever could, and Louis can’t catch his breath even with the distance._

_They stare at each other from either side of the counter for minutes that feel like years. The boy’s eyes go a touch softer, and Louis wants to thumb over his eyelids. He wants to count his eyelashes and smell the space behind his ear. He wants to kiss him._

_He takes a hesitant step forward, and of course the boy has no way of knowing that Louis has lost all trace of sanity, so he is immediately met with a thick cloud of rainbow glitter._

_“Oh my God! I can’t believe you did that!” The laughter is back in full force, and Louis swears it is his favorite sound. “You’re cleaning this up all by yourself, you irresponsible little shit.” He runs towards the counter, jumping over the surface rather ungracefully, and tackles the boy to the ground._

_“Louis! No! Let me go!”_

_“Never!”_

_The boy seems to accept his fate after several minutes of fake struggles and very real giggles. They lie pressed to one another’s bodies, covered in sweat and the grime of a day spent in a pastry kitchen. And glitter. So much glitter. They both appear to realize the consequences of their epic battle at the same time, glancing around at the previously clean floor._

_“Madeleine is going to fire us. Or maybe kill us.”_

_Louis nods his head. “Probably both.” They both erupt into another fit of laughter._

_When they finally stand up and properly survey the damage, they simply look at each other and sigh. Louis grabs two brooms and offers one to the rainbow boy beside him. They get to work and manage to sweep up most of the mess over the next hour. They dump the glitter into the kitchen garbage cans, pull their coats and scarves and hats off of their hooks, and are walking to the front door to leave when the boy once again starts cackling uncontrollably._

_“What’s so funny?”_

_The boy points toward the counter._

_Louis doesn't even look at the counter which he will later learn is now permanently covered in multicolored glitter. Instead, he looks at the boy’s beautiful smile for the hundredth time today and the billionth time in his life. That feeling is back. And this time, he’s going to do something about it._

_“Hazzah.”_

_“Yeah, Lou?” the boy questions with tears of joy in his eyes._

_“Can I kiss you?”_

_Somehow the boy’s smile becomes even brighter. “Yes, please.”_

Louis is abruptly pulled from his thoughts by the girl behind the counter greeting him and asking for his order. He panics for a few seconds, realizing he had not chosen a treat to accompany his tea.

“Tea, please. Do you have any beignets?”

The girl nods and moves to prepare his order. When she turns back to him, he pays her and nearly burns himself trying to get out as soon as humanly possible. He can do without milk in his tea today. He just needs to leave. Whether that beautiful boy is here or not.

He breathes a premature sigh of relief as his hand touches the door handle, but he can’t help the chill that runs down his spine and surely freezes the hot cuppa in his hand when he hears it.

“Louis?”

_Harry._

Harry’s voice. It’s different. It’s deeper. And it sounds kind of pained, if he’s being honest. But it’s Harry’s. And he knows without even turning around. He doesn’t need to.

So he doesn’t.

He leaves the shop, making it all of about twenty feet before the tears become blinding.


	2. Chapter 2

“Niall! Open this fookin’ door right now! I’m not playing around!”

The door swings open and Louis finds himself face-to-face with his friend and old roommate for the first time since he moved back home following graduation.

“Tommo, what the hell?  Why are you in London?  You look like shit.”

“I’m such a bloody idiot, Niall,” he wails dramatically as he pushes past him and enters their once-shared flat. He flops himself down on the brand new couch Niall purchased when Louis took their old, lumpy piece of furniture that could barely even be considered a couch. It’s perfect for napping, though.

Niall laughs. He actually has the audacity to laugh. “Eh…yeah, I know. But do you maybe want to be more specific? What happened?”

“My world collapsed around me this morning, and you’re my best mate, and I thought maybe you could help me start picking shit up or like…at least let me whine about the mess.”

“Louis, you’re not actually giving me anything to work with. You need to tell me what happened or I can’t help ya.”

Louis takes a moment to close his eyes and suck in an uneven breath and pretend like nothing is wrong before glancing at Niall. Who is staring at him.  _God._  He hides his face in his hands and says as quietly as he can muster, “I saw him this morning.”

“Harry?”

Louis looks up, startled. “How did you know that?”

“Louis, mate. It became pretty obvious pretty quickly that this meltdown had something to do with him. All of your meltdowns do. So you saw him, huh? Where?”

Choosing to ignore the blatant lies, Louis rolls his eyes and starts talking. “At the café. Which is called “pathetic” or “pitiful” or something now,” he emphasizes with finger quotes. “I didn’t actually see him, I just heard him. I went in because I didn’t think he would be there because of the sign and the fact that it’s been five years. But he said my name when I was walking out. I knew it was him, but I left without turning around. I couldn’t do it, Niall. Why did I do that? Why did I even go in the first place? What is wrong with me?!”

Niall abruptly hops off of the couch and returns moments later with two beers in hand. “Nothing’s wrong with ya, Tommo. Pretty cool actually that you could even make yourself go in. A lot of people wouldn’t have been that strong, y’know?”

“I feel so stupid.”

Niall nods and stays silent for a minute or two. “Are you going to go back?”

Louis sighs and chugs his beer. “That’s the worst part. That’s what proves I’ve completely lost my mind. I want to. Even just to see him.”

Niall shoots him a look, eyebrows raised, and Louis cannot blame him.

“God, I sound so creepy! Niiiiaaallllll,” he whines.

“I don’t think you’re creepy, mate. I just think you need to figure some things out, once and for all. You can't do this forever.”

Well, if that’s not the most unhelpful piece of advice he’s ever received. They sit in the flat in silence, and Louis notices for the first time that the television has been turned on the whole time. He tunes it out and thinks about his last comment.

_Even just to see him. He probably looks different. He’s not sixteen anymore. His voice sounded weird. I wonder if he ever let his hair grow out. His eyes would be the same. And his dimples. I bet he's got someone to make him smile so hard his left dimple looks painful._

Louis can feel his eyes gathering water again and before he can attempt to get his emotions under control, he feels moisture on his cheeks and the taste of salt on his lips. He wipes at his face with the sleeve of his jumper and tries valiantly but unsuccessfully to hide his tears from his friend.

Niall takes his beer so he doesn’t drop it on the floor that Niall actually seems to keep clean now that he lives alone. “I’m so sorry, mate.” He wraps an arm around Louis’ neck and chuckles lightheartedly. “Y’know, I actually think it’s a good idea. For you to go back and maybe try to have a conversation with him. I could go with you if you wanted.”

Louis slumps into his friend’s warm hold on him, wiping his cheeks and smiling as sincerely as he can under the circumstances. “That would be nice. But we are not going anywhere today because I’m a proper mess and I haven’t kicked your arse in some time.”

Niall laughs and grabs the remote control to change it from some soap opera that Louis will most definitely make fun of him for watching later to the newest FIFA game.

Things are okay for now.

{~~~}

In his dreams, Harry forgives him. In his dreams, he gets to hold his boy again. And kiss him. Sometimes he’s jolted awake because dream Louis gets a little carried away in showing dream Harry how sorry he is. This morning real Louis woke up in a cold sweat, immediately took the hottest shower of his life, and called Niall.

_“Can you come to Holmes Chapel this weekend?”_

_“Yeah, mate! We finally doing this?”_

_“You said it yourself. I can’t do this forever.”_

_“I’ll be there tomorrow night. We can go Saturday, yeah? Make it like we’re just there casually for a casual brunch. Very casual. You wanted to show your super cool, super hip college roommate around your hometown. Casually.”_

_“You can’t get me drunk until after we go through with the plan. I mean it.”_

_“Deal. It’s gonna be good, Louis. You’re doing the right thing.”_

He really hopes Niall is right.

He shows up Friday evening to Louis’ new flat in the town he never should have left in the first place. They watch some footie and order pizza because neither of them have ever mastered the art of cooking. The only experience Louis has in that arena is the week he was allowed in the kitchen at the café before Madeleine banned him and had him work in the front with the customers so he wouldn’t burn the place to the ground. Well, he can cook one meal, but only because he practiced so many times before he actually served it to another person. Specifically, a curly-headed boy who raved about it for months. And while Louis can find a way to ruin even cereal, the only spice Niall seems to be aware of is salt. So they discovered long ago the benefits of takeout.

“Tommo, people don’t eat corn with pizza. Like that’s not a thing. It’s just you.”

Louis doesn’t respond. He just smiles as he takes another bite of his pizza and thinks about that beautiful boy who loves sweet corn.

Later, when they’re both overstuffed and sprawled out on the living room floor, Niall pokes him in the ribs and asks the question Louis has been contemplating since the day he drove to London. The day he saw Harry. Or, well, heard his weird, grown-up voice before bolting out of the café like a lunatic.

“Are you in love with him?”

“Yeah.”

“Were you ever not in love with him?”

“No.”

Niall nods slowly and continues to stare at the apparently very interesting ceiling.

“I’m not doing this to win him back. I’m doing this because he deserves an explanation and an apology. I don’t want you to think I’m being naïve or selfish or whatever else. I mean, I guess it’s a little selfish because I truly do want to see him one last time. But I’m not expecting anything other than him deciding to forgive me or not. He needs to know that he did nothing wrong. He is the best person I have ever known or will ever likely meet. No offense.”

“None taken. As long as I’m in the running for second place.”

{~~~}

Hours later, Louis lies awake, restless and eager and scared shitless. He gave up on sleep long ago and is now running through every possible scenario he can imagine of how tomorrow might go. Or, well, today. He knows that there are things he wants that are not possible. Harry is not going to run into his arms or declare his undying love or call him any of the nicknames Louis used to pretend to hate just so Harry would wrap him up in a tight hug and breathe them into his ear like secrets. Harry hates him, and he has every right to. Louis would not blame him one iota if he didn’t say a word and simply turned around and walked away.

He throws his sheets from his body and drags himself quietly to the bathroom, so as not to wake Niall who is loudly snoring on his couch. That couch really is amazing.

He examines his face in the mirror, looking carefully for any pre-zits to be taken care of. He needs to look flawless when Harry inevitably punches him square in the nose. He wouldn’t, though. He’s too nice. Too good.

Louis pulls open the shower door and turns the hot water knob all the way to the left as he always does when he needs to chase his thoughts out of his head. He steps in and lets the hot water hit his skin. It burns, but he can take it for a few minutes. He eventually adds some cold water to the stream and washes his face, scrubbing hard. He washes his hair with the coconut shampoo he has used since he moved to Holmes Chapel and grew accustomed to its scent in a mess of curly hair.

After he’s clean and has been standing in the enclosed space aimlessly for far too long, he grooms a bit in preparation for the day ahead and exits the bathroom, steam billowing behind him.

“Mornin’,” Niall mumbles from the couch.

“Hey, Nialler. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't. I'm hungry. Make me breakfast.”

Louis chuckles, his heart already feeling lighter with his best mate around. “Yeah, right. Neither of us want that. There’s cereal and tea in the cupboard, help yourself.”

Returning to his room, he makes his bed haphazardly and opens his closet to find the perfect outfit for telling one’s ex-best friend, ex-kind of-boyfriend, “I’m sorry I broke your heart. I broke mine, too. Please forgive me. I’m still in love with you, and I probably, most definitely, always will be. I’m miserable and it’s all my fault. I genuinely hope you’re happy, but also would you like to ride off into the sunset with me and live happily ever after?”

He eventually settles on his tightest pair of black skinnies, a t-shirt from uni, and a denim overshirt. He looks pretty fit if he does say so himself. He meanders into the bathroom and fixes his fringe so that it dries in a good look and not a floppy mess.

He looks into the mirror one final time, giving himself the rather bleak pep talk he needs.

_You’re going to get your heart broken today. It won’t come as a surprise. You know it’s going to happen. No matter what he says, it won’t be what you really, honestly want. But you are not doing this for you. You are doing it for Harry. You’ve got one chance, Tomlinson._

And with that, he joins Niall in the kitchen to attempt to eat something and keep it down despite his nerves. Another few hours pass, and it’s finally time.

“Ready, mate?” Niall asks with a sincere smile.

Louis simply nods, grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and ushers his friend out into the hallway so they can begin the journey to the café before he changes his mind.

He can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my beautiful bi daughter Meg and our many conversations about Captain Niall Horan and his stereotypical personality in fics, his propensity for drinking beer at all hours of the day, and his lack of bravery in seasoning his chicken. Love you, doll. You're too good to me. <3


	3. Chapter 3

Their walk to the café is narrated by Niall’s cautious attempts to lighten the mood. Louis is nauseated the entire time. He can’t stop imagining the most painful potential outcomes of this disastrous idea. What the hell was he thinking? Harry has his own life, one that does not include Louis. For good reason. This is a bad idea.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Tom—”

“What do you think, Niall?! Oh my God, can you just for one second acknowledge this as the huge deal that it is?! I’m sorry for yelling at you, but come on, man!”

Niall stops walking and grabs Louis by both shoulders. “Louis. I know that this is a big deal and that you’re freaking out. But it is going to be okay. You will survive this. You have planned for literally every scenario, and you’re not going to get there and say something stupid or run away or barf on him. It’s going to be fine, and you will make it through this and be glad that you did because this has been eating you alive for five years. Now shut your damn mouth and get a move on.”

Niall drops his hands and starts walking even faster than before. Louis has to run to catch up when he finally snaps out of it.

When they arrive, and after Niall enters the shop without him while he gives himself another quick, last-minute pep talk, Louis opens the door and steps inside. The scent of cinnamon and sugar wafts through the air, and Louis is already holding back tears. He glances around the room once before taking a seat across from Niall at a table near the window with the best view of the park across the street.

“Is he here? Is that him?”

“Niall, for God’s sake, can you take it down a notch? Please? I looked around before I sat down, and I didn’t see him. He’s probably in the kitchen.”

_You don’t know what he looks like. Sure, you would recognize his emerald eyes in another life, but he might have been facing away from you. He could be in this room. He could have already seen you._

“Fuck,” Louis breathes and drops his head onto the table. “I don’t know if he’s in here. Let’s just order brunch, and I’ll ask our server if he’s here.”

A girl comes to take their order, Louis choosing French toast with extra syrup and Niall selecting pretty much everything on the menu.

“Knowing you, we’ll be here all damn day, so excuse me for wanting to be prepared,” Niall says when Louis gives him a chastising look. “I thought you were going to ask our waitress about Harry’s whereabouts?”

“I will when she brings our food, I swear.”

Much too soon, she arrives with their brunch, looking entirely too chipper for what feels like the end of the world. He takes a deep breath before he looks up at her warily. “Um…is Harry here today?”

The girl’s face lights up. “Yeah, he’s in his office. You know him? I can go get him.”

_His office?_

“Eh…yeah, that would be great. If you think he’s not too busy. Thank you.” The girl nods and walks toward the back of the shop.

Louis turns toward Niall, who is smiling maniacally. “I’m fucking dying here, can you maybe not look like you’re high at Disneyland on your birthday?”

His hands are shaking and his throat is constricting. Maybe he’ll die before Harry even makes it to the table. Niall brings him back to reality several minutes later with a not-so-subtle cough and a kick to his foot under the table.

“Hi, I’m Harry! Sam said you wanted to speak wi—”

Louis is staring at the table like it is riddled with the most complicated math equation in history. He can’t do this. This is the worst idea he has ever had in his life, and now it’s too late to take it back.

“Louis? What are you doing here?”

Louis flinches and looks up. And that decision instantly becomes the new worst idea he has ever had. Because the man standing in front of him is the most insanely gorgeous human being he has ever laid his eyes on. Louis has given a lot of thought over the years as to what Harry might look like as a twenty-one-year old man. But this ethereal creature before him with curls dropping down to his broad shoulders and tattoos peeking out of his ridiculous sheer blouse was not what he had imagined even in his wildest, most inappropriate dreams.

He realizes with a panic that Harry is waiting for him to speak rather than drool all over himself.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hi, Louis. What are you doing here?”

_God, he sounds pissed. And confused. Which…of course he is._

“Um…this is Niall.”

“Hello, Niall.” He holds his hand out to Niall, and Niall shakes it, looking uncomfortable for the first time throughout this entire situation. His eyes move back to Louis’. “What are you doing here, Louis?”

“Can we please talk? I know I have no right to even ask, but I would like to talk to you. Please. If you aren’t too busy and if you can stand talking to me for five minutes. Please.”

Harry looks at him for what feels like eons. He runs his hand, his fucking huge hand, through his long hair, and his mouth twists up into a weird grimace. “Give me ten minutes. We can talk in the office.” He turns around and begins to walk away before Louis has even processed his words.

“You did it, mate. You got through part one. You can do this.”

Louis looks at Niall and steels himself for what will come next. “Gonna, uh…gonna go wait in the back. This is important, and he needs to know that. You okay out here?”

“Yeah, I have enough food for ten people. I’ll be busy for a while. Go do what you came here to do. Got your back, Tommo.”

Fifteen minutes later, Louis is still sitting against the wall a few feet down from the office door. When it opens, he jumps to his feet and is met with Harry who now stands a couple of inches taller than him. They look at one another with matching looks of discomfort and mild panic before Louis begins.

“You asked me why I’m here. I’m here to apologize. For everything.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I broke your heart. I’m not saying that to be smug or to paint you as some kind of weakling. We both know it’s true. What you don’t know is I broke my own, as well. I promised myself that I would be honest with you about everything if I ever saw you again. I would like to talk to you for more than five minutes, but I understand if that’s something you aren’t interested in. I have a condensed version ready to go if I need to just speed through that right now.”

Harry hasn’t taken his eyes off of Louis’ since he stepped into the hallway. “I have a few things I would like to say before you continue, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course.”

Harry looks down at his feet, clad in well-worn suede boots the color of caramel. He makes eye contact again, piercing and painful and intoxicating. “You did break my heart.”

Louis wants to melt into the wood floor, to disappear from this Earth forever. He doesn’t deserve to live. He broke Harry Styles’ heart, and that is unforgivable.

“I’m not saying that to play the victim or to paint you as evil,” he says, using Louis’ words from before. “But I am not going to pretend that’s not the truth just because I am fine now. I realize how difficult this must be for you, and I want to thank you for doing it anyway. I can leave in about an hour.”

Of all the things he could have said, Louis picks the dumbest possible response.

“That’s a weird shift.”

“Oh, uh…yeah, it’s not really a shift time. I…this is my place now.”

“Oh. When did that happen?”

“About a year ago. Madeleine and Émile both retired in order to travel, and she asked me to take over. She transferred everything over to my name, and I like…own it now.”

“Harry, that’s great. I am so, so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Lou.” Harry’s eyes snap shut and a bright red flush creeps up his neck and settles on his cheeks. “Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Louis can’t breathe. All of the air has been sucked out of this tiny, suffocating hallway and he’s going to die here.  There are surely worse ways to go.

“I really do have to finish up here. I promise I’m not trying to get rid of you. Can you stay for another hour? Your friend had a lot of food, I’m thinking he won’t be done for a while.”

“How about you meet me in the park when you’re done here? No pressure. It’s a nice day, so I can send Niall off to do whatever he does when I’m not around and enjoy the fresh air until you’re done being the boss for the day.”

Harry smiles and Louis’ heart is beating so fast and so loud there is no way Harry can’t hear it, feel its vibrations in the air.

“Okay," Harry nods. "I’ll see you soon.”

When Harry is back inside his office, Louis collapses. The girl who brought him his French toast steps up to his shaking form hesitantly and offers him a hand, helping him stand. He thanks her wordlessly and walks toward Niall and his cold brunch.

“Well?” he prompts, his mouth full of food.

Louis wipes the tears from his eyes and smiles for the first time in a long, long time.

“I didn’t barf.”

Later, Louis sits on a wooden bench in the park across the street, waiting for Harry. He scolds himself for ever thinking he could go through with this, the knowledge that he is not going to get him back pounding like a headache. He doesn’t regret finding him and he will not leave this spot until he tells Harry everything he needs to hear. He is doing this for Harry, not himself. But still, it hurts like hell. And he can’t understand how he believed he could get through this without still praying for that in the back of his mind.

He spots two boys playing, rolling down a small hill and running back up breathlessly. Over and over again. His stomach swoops uncomfortably. He knows that hill.

{~~~}

_“Baby, pleaseeeee?" Harry whines. "Come on, it’ll be fun!”_

_“Curly, for the last time, I am not going to camp out in your backyard when you have a perfectly soft and clean bed inside. Where there are no bugs. And where this is air conditioning.”_

_“But you like being outside. Why don’t you want to do this with me? It’s an adventure, Lou.”_

_Louis panics, has to shut him up, before he ruins the surprise out of not being able to disappoint his boy. If he would just let it go for like six hours, he would see that his efforts were not in vain. But of course he cannot shut up about it. So Louis kisses him until both their lips are red and swollen. Harry seems to forget about camping for now._

This has to be perfect _, Louis thinks later that night. You’re going to tell your best friend that you’re in love with him. Don’t panic. He loves you, too. You already snog each other’s faces off every chance you get. He loves holding your hand when you’re grumbling over your homework, dancing his fingertips across your collarbones when you’re watching Grease together for the millionth time, curling up to be your little spoon. He loves you. Just make this a beautiful night for your beautiful boy._

_Louis is buzzing with excitement and nerves and love. So much love._

_He makes one final assessment of his masterpiece and walks the short distance to Harry’s little house. That perfect house where he learned to play piano, to solve the quadratic formula, to make the perfect cuppa, to waltz around a living room without falling over his own two feet when forest green eyes focus on him just long enough to make him lose his breath._

_He knocks and waits, rather than walking in unannounced as he typically would._

_Harry opens the door, confusion written all over his face. “Hey, stranger. Why are you knocking?”_

_“Come with me, Haz.”_

_“I’m supposed to be getting ready for bed.”_

_“I talked to your mum already, she said it’s fine.”_

_Harry turns slightly, and Louis looks over Harry’s shoulder to see Anne nodding, eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness._

_“Okay.” Harry narrows his eyes but follows Louis down the steps and toward the road anyway._

_They begin their journey. Harry is confused, and Louis is about to explode probably. Is that possible? He hopes not._

_“You’re being weird,” Harry says, suspicion in his eyes. “Where are we going?”_

_“China,” Louis chirps, sarcasm dripping with his excitement._

_“I hate you,” Harry says with a smile._

_Louis turns to give him a smile in return. “No, you don’t.”_

_“No, I don’t.”_

_When they’re close to the park, Louis slips his fingers down Harry’s palm until they tangle with his. Harry continues to look ahead, but his soft smile tells Louis all he needs to know._

_Soft light begins to illuminate the space around them as they near that perfect spot Louis had chosen earlier, and Louis hears Harry take in a shaky breath. This is it. There is no going back now. Not that he would ever want to._

_“Oh my God.” Harry looks at Louis in awe. “You complete and utter arse!”_

_Well, okay. That is not what Louis was expecting. “Uh…sorry?”_

_“I cannot believe you. I really believed you didn’t want to go camping with me, and now you bring me here where you’ve set up a tent with all of your softest blankets and fairy lights and…oh my God, are those rose petals?! You are the cheesiest boy in the whole world! Did you hire a string quartet and ask your mum to buy us champagne, too?”_

_Louis blushes wildly and points to the ground, where an ice bucket sits holding a bottle of cheap pink wine and a portable radio is exhaling a soft melody of piano and violin._

_“Louis Tomlinson. Are you trying to seduce me?”_

_Louis grins and tugs him forward into the tent where they sit in silence for some time, just looking at one another and nothing else. Harry eventually moves his hand to thumb over Louis’ cheekbone._

_“I can’t believe you did this for me, you giant sap.”_

_Louis is waiting for the perfect moment to say those three little words. He knows if he says anything at all, it will be those three little words, floating around in his head as if they’re the only ones he knows. So instead, he brings Harry’s hand to his lips and kisses his palm, kisses each of his pretty fingers._

_He rolls Harry over onto his back and kisses both cheeks before moving to his neck, avoiding his lips altogether. Each of Harry’s giggles remind him he’s in love. They lie in one another’s arms for ten minutes or maybe five hours, and then Louis reaches up without warning and kisses him on the mouth for the first time in hours. Harry melts straight through the worn duvet covering the ground._

It can wait _, Louis thinks._ Kiss him senseless, then tell him. You have all night.

_Eventually, their lips move slower against the other’s and they drift off into a half-sleep._

_“Louuuu. Lou, wake up.”_

_Louis feels his lips turning up into a smile before he even opens his eyes. When he does open them to see Harry with watery eyes and a pained look on his face, his smile vanishes._

_“Oh God, are you hurt? What’s wrong?”_

_“I’m not hurt. Well…I don’t know, Lou. I’m so scared.”_

_“Do you want to go home?”_

_“No, it’s not that. It’s not tonight. Tonight has been wonderful. You’re wonderful.”_

_Louis looks at him imploringly, needs to take his boy’s pain away. “Why are you crying, babe?”_

_Harry tries to take a deep breath and seems to be unsuccessful when it comes out shuddering, his body shaking a bit. “This is just reminding me that you’re leaving.”_

_Louis wraps his body around Harry’s and wills his own tears away. “I’m all yours for another week. And yeah, those two years before you graduate and move to uni with me are going to suck. But I’ll see you every weekend, love. That’s what will keep me going. It’s going to be okay.”_

_“You think that, but you don’t know,” Harry says, sniffling._

_“Yes, I do, Harold,” Louis teases._

_“No, you don’t,_ Lewis _.” His voice is sharp and tight._

_And what in the fresh hell is this? This is not how tonight was supposed to go._

_They hear the first crack of thunder, and really, this could not be worse timing. They look at each other for another minute before starting to gather everything Louis brought out here. He’s just going to have to tell him at his house.  It’s a change of scenery, nothing more._

_Except the rain starts pouring down on them, and the lightning is flashing not ten meters from the path they’re running. Louis stumbles on the uneven ground, a tiny hill appearing out of nowhere, and falls, dropping everything he was holding, including the wine bottle, which splinters into a thousand tiny pieces under the delicate skin of his arm. Blood pulses out as he stands, mixing with rain water and dropping from his arm to the ground below. It’s so hard to breathe. He can’t see more than a few hands in front of him._

This is what you get for trying to have it all _, Louis thinks._ He can’t be yours. You’re leaving, and he’s in pain, and you’re the reason why. You can’t do this to him. The sky is crashing down on you because you are being selfish. If you really love him, you’ll let him go. You’ll let him have a life. You’ll let him grow. If you really love him, you won’t keep him in a cage.

_Ignoring the searing pain in his arm and in his heart as much as he can, he frantically gathers his belongings and takes off running again toward Harry and the safety of his home._

_They make it to the house and drop everything on the porch. Harry notices Louis’ injury for the first time and moves to comfort him. And something in Louis’ brain breaks._

_“Get away from me!” he yells in a panic._

_Harry flinches and steps back, hurt and confusion on his drenched face. “Louis, you’re hurt.”_

_“You think I don’t know that?! God, this is a sign, Harry! Don’t you see!”_

_“Louis, what are you talking about? We need to go inside and bandage your arm. You’re acting crazy.”_

_“_ I’m _acting crazy?! Look around you! I’m not acting crazy, this whole night is crazy, and I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know what it means.”_

_Harry looks like he might throw up. Or cry. Or pass out._

Scream at me! Do something! Tell me I’m wrong! _Louis thinks, fear rushing through his veins._

_He doesn’t do any of those things. He just stands there looking like a wounded puppy._

You have to do this. He’s going to hate you, but he’ll be happier. Don’t you want him to be happy? It’s going to happen now on your terms or later when neither of you can stand it any longer. Do it now.

_“I can’t do this anymore, Harry. I’m sorry.”_

_Harry’s eyes are shooting daggers into his own. “Can’t do what anymore, Lou?”_

_“I’m leaving in a week. You won’t even have to see me again. I’m sorry. I have to go.”_

_Louis turns and descends the short steps to the muddy ground below, forcing himself not to glance back at Harry. He wouldn’t be able to leave if he were to see him crying again. He walks to his own house, alternating between holding his shirt against his bleeding limb and wiping his nose with his other hand. He lets the tears fall as they may, can’t feel the difference between the tears and the rain pelting his face with every shaky step._

_He bursts through the door of his home and races to the bathroom, dripping wet. He turns the hot water knob on and leaves the cold untouched. Stepping into the shower, his arm screams in pain, and he immediately pulls out as much of the glass as he can find. When his skin is numb and his mind is in a similar state, he slumps to the floor of the shower and screams. And screams again. And again. He’s going to wake up his mum and his sisters, but he can’t make himself stop._

_His mum bursts into the bathroom and throws open the shower curtain, panic in her eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”_

_Louis weakly nods with all the energy left in his body and watches his mother turn off the water and drape a towel over him. “Let’s get you in bed, love. Can you tell me what happened?”_

_“My arm’s bleeding. And I ruined everything.”_

_She shushes him, pressing a clean flannel to his arm, no longer bleeding due to the hot water and lack of any more blood to spill. She lays him down in his bed and covers him with the quilt usually found on the couch, his own duvet probably still soaking up the rain outside of Harry’s house._

_“Haz...” he hears himself whimper pathetically._

_He falls into a restless sleep with his mum smoothing his hair away from his face and wiping the first of the tears that won’t stop falling for the next five years._

{~~~}

Louis jolts awake, finding himself now lying on the rickety bench in the park he wishes he could blame for everything.

He glances at his watch. Harry will be here any minute now.

He sits up, wipes his hands over his face, catching a few tears that must have fallen in his sleep, and watches those sweet, laughing boys until he hears the unmistakable sound of boots moving through fallen leaves.


	4. Chapter 4

Louis turns and watches Harry approach. He smiles, and Louis erupts into a nervous chuckle he’s not sure Harry hears. He doesn’t really mind if he does.

“Hi again.”

“Hi,” Louis breathes.

Harry points to the bench. “Can I sit with you?”

“Yes! Please!” Jesus, he really needs to calm down.

Harry takes a seat and arches his back, his spine cracking audibly. “Ugh, sorry. It was a long morning.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure my showing up didn’t help.”

“No, honestly, it’s not you. My dog was sick all night, so I got like zero sleep. And I was so tired when I got to the shop this morning, I messed up all kinds of recipes before I finally just gave up and waited for my pastry chef to arrive. I’m just off my game today. It’s not you. I…I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Hey. I really am glad to see you. I acted like a bit of an arse right there at the beginning, so I’m sorry. I think I was in shock.”

“Understandable. You could have punched me in the face or yelled at me or kicked me out of your restaurant, though, so I think you handled it fairly well actually.” Harry doesn’t respond, so Louis takes a breath and continues. “I’m sorry you had a rough morning even before I showed up.” He’s still just sitting there not saying anything, and Louis panics, needing to fill the silence. “You have a dog?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, his face lighting up at the question. “Her name’s Gracie. She’s a Great Dane. She’s an idiot. Super loveable. Great Danes actually give  _amazing_  cuddles.” A smile grows on Louis’ face as Harry gesticulates wildly. “I feel like it’s a common misconception that only fluffy dogs are good cuddlers. Is that a word? Cuddlers? Either way. My Gracie is my favorite cuddler.”

Louis can’t help it. He laughs. Like really, genuinely laughs out loud for way too long. Harry seems to be struggling with alternating feelings of offense, embarrassment, and pure joy, his face flickering between emotions like the ticking of a clock.

“What are you laughing at?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m not making fun of you.” Harry shoots him a flabbergasted look to which he clarifies, “Not in a bad way.”

“How do you make fun of somebody in a good way?”

“It’s just…I asked about you having a dog, and you blabbed for two whole minutes about cuddling. It was funny, Harry! Come on, you would have laughed at me if I had been the one to go off on a tangent about cuddling my hairless dog.”

Harry’s hesitant smile broadens until Louis’ favorite thing in the world happens before his eyes for the first time in five years. Harry’s dimples are on full display, and Louis might cry. It takes every fiber of self-control in his body to resist reaching out and placing his thumb in the crater on Harry’s beautiful face. He loves those dimples so fucking much.

He has to keep talking. This is good, he just has to keep talking.

“So you own the café now, and your favorite cuddler is your dog Gracie. You have long hair and tattoos.”

He feels the blush crawling onto his face. _Way to announce that you were checking him out. Good job, Tommo. Amazing. Terrific. Wonderful. That’s not embarrassing at all._

“Yeah,” Harry laughs. “You have a bit of ink yourself, I noticed. Do you have a dog and a restaurant, as well?”

_He noticed your tattoos! And he’s smiling! He’s smiling and joking, and he seems to be having an okay time. Why did I only prepare for bad things? Harry is too good a person. Thank God for that._

Louis looks down at his hands resting in his lap. He can feel the subject creeping up, and he wishes they could talk only about happy things. But that’s not what he came here for. Although, he kind of thinks his objective is changing the longer he sits beside Harry.

“No, neither. I graduated this summer. Education. Switched over from drama my second year. I just moved back. I live about three minutes from Mum, which is wonderful. I missed her and the girls so much while I was away.”

Harry nods, seems to be sifting through the information carefully. “You would be a good teacher, I think. And I heard you have a new little brother and sister.”

“I hope so. I haven’t gotten any job offers yet, but I’m not too worried. Just starting to look. And I do, yeah. They’re adorable. The curliest hair you’ve ever seen.”

Harry throws his hand up to his chest in mock offense. “Excuse me? Have I lost the title?”

“They might have you beat,” Louis laughs. “And in terms of pets, Niall and I had a fish when we lived together, but Niall once left on holiday for a week, and I forgot the little guy even existed.” Harry gasps dramatically, and Louis’ heart is so full of joy he can barely take it. He’s still that silly boy Louis fell for all those years ago. “I killed him. Negligent homicide, Niall ruled. My punishment was buying all the groceries for a month.”

Harry looks at him wide-eyed. “You  _monster_.”

Louis giggles and feels a zing of embarrassment, but it dissipates when he looks up again to find Harry still smiling.

“I want to talk to you about so much,” Louis says abruptly, his heart hammering away at what feels like nine thousand beats per second.

Harry’s smile fades, but he doesn’t look sad. Just tired. “I feel like I shouldn’t want that. But I really do.” Louis doesn’t say anything, so Harry continues. “You want to power through the bad stuff?”

“I can’t even believe you’re still talking to me, if I’m being honest. I don’t deserve for you to be this nice to me after what happened. And the years of, well, nothing.”

“I let you leave.”

“Harry—”

“No, Louis. I let you leave. I’m not blameless. No matter how much you have apparently convinced yourself that you were the only one of us who did something wrong. I recognize my own fault in this, and while you did fuck up pretty outrageously, I’m not gonna pretend otherwise…I messed up, too.”

“I can’t stand not having you in my life.”

“We might be able to come up with a solution to that problem.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” Louis says quietly, fearfully.

“I mean it.” Harry quickly knocks his fist once against Louis’ thigh which has been bouncing nervously since Harry sat down next to him. “Really, I mean it. I’ve missed you, man.”

It’s not  _Lou_  or  _baby_  or  _sunshine_  or  _sweetcheeks_  or  _Loubear_ , but Louis will take it. He’s not in the position to be unhappy with any situation in which Harry isn’t running away from him forever. Harry could call him a dickhead or an arsehole, and Louis would be okay with it as long as he hung around to insult him again.

“I’ve missed you, too,  _bro_.”

“Shut up,” Harry says through a low chuckle.

Their smiles fade again, and Louis charges forward.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I am so, so, so sorry. I was scared and confused and so foolish. And I’m so sorry for hurting you. For causing you pain.”

He places his hand on Harry’s shoulder over his loose button-up that is actually not so ridiculous now that Louis has gotten a closer look. It is really quite pretty, pink and cream-colored and flowery. It suits him. He draws up a mental list of his old Harry names. _Harold_ ,  _curly_ ,  _Hazzah_ ,  _babycakes_ , and the one that seems especially appropriate now,  _petal_. He is so beautiful.

“I forgave you a long time ago, Lou. And I’m sorry, too.”

 _Lou._ His heart shines through his chest, he’s sure of it. “We were really dumb,” he says on a chance, hoping Harry understands.

“Yeah, we were,” Harry sighs.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? I really do want to catch up. You said we could find a solution to the problem, and I’d like to hold you to that.”

Harry nods, his skin glowing in the dappled light, the sunshine poking through the tall trees. “Tomorrow night? _Luna_?”

Louis can’t stop smiling. He probably looks insane. “Sounds perfect. I’m going to eat seven loaves of garlic bread, so prepare yourself.”

“Probably won’t be getting proper cuddles from Gracie if I take that as a challenge. I cannot believe you’re making me choose between garlic bread and my dog.”

“You can back out. Nobody is going to tease you for not eating as much of the world’s greatest garlic bread as you possibly can so you can go home and make out with your dog instead. That is perfectly normal, healthy behavior.”

“I hate you,” Harry says, giggling.

“No, you don’t,” Louis responds mindlessly.

“No, I don’t.”

It just slipped out. But Harry’s response flips his world upside down.  He doesn’t hate him.

He doesn’t want to leave, but he’s starving as that is what happens when one cries in hallways instead of actually eating the French toast paid for at brunch, and he isn’t sure his poor, overworked heart can take much more today. He stands up and smooths his shirt.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Usual time?”

Harry stands and shoves his hands into the pockets of his sinfully tight jeans.  He nods, a small smile creeping onto his pink lips. “See you then.”

Louis smiles and turns on his heels to walk away before Harry can change his mind.

He hasn’t felt this light since he was eighteen, and if he skips and laughs and cries and even sings on the way back to his flat? Well, no one really needs to know.

{~~~}

The next morning, Louis wakes up from the best night of sleep he’s had in years. Harry has forgiven him, and he laughed with him in the park, and he wants to have dinner with him tonight. It's a little hard to believe, but he isn't going to question it.

When Louis nearly broke through the door of his flat yesterday and screamed in Niall’s face, Niall laughed manically and hugged him tight, spinning him around Louis’ living room.

_“I fuckin’ told ya! I knew it would be good! That’s amazing, Tommo!”_

_“I can’t believe this is happening! I think we might be able to be friends again!”_

Once they had calmed down and Louis had practically inhaled a late lunch of cold, leftover pizza, Louis had asked Niall to help him create the perfect outfit for his non-date with Harry.

Louis glances toward his closet this morning, running his eyes over the jeans and button-up shirt hanging from the door. He sits up, twisting so that his vertebrae pop melodically, and places his feet on the cold floor. Shivering, he rushes over to his drawers and pulls out a pair of thick socks. He tucks his joggers into the socks adorned with frogs wearing tiaras, and smiles at the memory of his sisters laughing with glee when he had ripped open their gift to him last Christmas. He slides over to his closet and replaces Niall’s shirt choice with a light blue jumper to be paired with his black skinnies that hug his arse just right and his lucky Vans. Much better. It’s not a date.

Louis and Niall lounge around the flat all day, accomplishing nothing. Niall is going to head back to London when Louis leaves to meet Harry, so they run through Louis’ thoughts and fears and expectations until his anxiety ebbs enough for them to simply enjoy one another’s company.

 _Luna_  is no more than a ten minute walk from Louis’ flat, but he wants to be early. He wants to be there first to greet Harry. So when the sun begins to fade from the sky, he starts getting ready. He puts on his updated outfit, much to Niall’s annoyance as he was very proud of his choices, and steps across the hall to try and tame his fringe in the bathroom mirror.

“Well?” he inquires as he positions himself between Niall and the television, once again turned to that horrible soap opera.

“My apologies for my earlier outburst, sir. You look quite dashing,” Niall drawls in his most dramatic, stereotypically posh English accent.

“Don’t ever do that again, Irish.”

Niall cackles loudly. “Alright, mate. But really, you look damn good. He’s not going to be able to resist you.”

Louis throws the pillow he just picked up from the floor directly into Niall’s face. “That’s not why I’m doing this! Please tell me it doesn’t seem like that. Honestly, I know you’re just messing with me because you know how I feel about him, but be real with me for a minute. Am I that transparent?”

Niall throws the pillow back at Louis. “Lighten up, dude. It’s just a non-first non-date with your ex-whatever. Who you are still in love with. It's not a big deal at  _all_.”

They leave the flat and go their separate ways after wrapping each other up in one last hug and a few more words of encouragement from Niall.

“I need updates. This is better than my show.”

“Get out of here,” Louis chuckles.

“For real, though. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“I will. Thanks for everything, mate. You’re a good friend.”

“Don’t I know it,” Niall says, with a laugh and a swift pat to Louis’ arse.

Louis turns in the direction of the restaurant and starts walking. The walk is a short one, all of his focus on the battle of nerves and excitement thrumming under his skin. And the moment he rounds the last corner and his eyes fall on the lights surrounding the tiny garden outside the restaurant, he knows his plans of being there before Harry are ruined.

Harry is already standing there with a dopey grin on his face. Louis can’t see who he is talking to, but he can see his mouth moving. Upon closer inspection, he notices a little girl with a crown of daisies resting on her head looking up at Harry excitedly, her arms waving around in the air. Harry is smiling so sincerely, reaching out to adjust her flowers every time she throws her head back and nearly loses them. Louis loves him.

Louis opens the cast iron gate, and Harry glances up to meet Louis’ eyes when he hears the old thing creak. Louis can’t tell if the sparkles in his eyes are because of him or the little girl or if they’re simply a reflection of the lights hanging all around them, but he doesn’t care. As long as his eyes keep sparkling. As long as Harry looks this happy. He should always be this happy.

Louis walks forward, reminding himself with every step that this is not a dream and he is not allowed to kiss Harry, no matter how badly he might want to. It feels like a date. It is  _not_  a date. _Not a date_ , Louis plays in a loop inside his head.

Harry bends down, and the little girl raises her hand to his lips. He kisses the top of her tiny hand and bows dramatically. The little girl giggles loudly and skips over to a young couple, her parents presumably. Harry smooths his hands over his black shirt, buttoned only half-way up his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and smiles broadly at Louis. He looks fucking  _delectable_. He dressed up. Why did he dress up? This isn’t a date.

 “I wanted to be here first. I’m trying to make things up to you in every way possible, and you foiled my plan.”

“Hello to you, too, Louis.”

“Hi,” Louis says dreamily. Oh dear God, he has  _got_  to get a grip.

“You don’t have to do that. I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I’ve forgiven you and would like to be friends. Was that not obvious?”

 _I don’t want to be friends with you_ , Louis’ brain screams unhelpfully. _I want to kiss you and hold you and never let you go ever again. I would marry you. I would have kids with you. I don’t want to be friends._

He smiles instead, keeping his thoughts in his mind where they belong. “Shall we?”

They walk toward the entrance, and Louis wishes he could reach over and take Harry’s hand in his. It would probably engulf his own now.

 _Luna_  is small and casual, but pretty and sweet and full of memories. They seat themselves at a small table by the window overlooking the garden. Louis can swear he can still smell the scent of peonies drifting through the chilled air. The garden is going to wither soon, and he feels a twinge of pain in his heart thinking of the flowers drying and falling to the ground.

“I haven’t been here since I moved to London.”

“I figured. I’m glad you could come before the flowers are gone for the winter.”

Louis smiles, and Harry answers with a softness in his eyes.

Their waiter comes to take their drink order, and Harry asks for a wine menu.

“Do you really need to be drunk to get through a meal with me?” Louis teases.

Harry shrugs. “No, just thought it would be nice.”

When the waiter returns, Harry asks for an expensive bottle of Merlot. “Oh!” he exclaims, the man turning back to their table in surprise. “And seven orders of garlic bread, please.”

Louis giggles, surprise surely showing on his face. “Cheeky.”

“Yep. So tell me about your life, Louis Tomlinson.”

“Well, you know about school and my lack of pets. You met Niall.”

“Mhm,” Harry answers cautiously. “Is he..?”

There’s an awkward pause until Louis realizes what Harry must be asking. “Oh. No. We were roommates at uni. And he thinks he’s straight.”

“Oh. Why is he in Holmes Chapel?”

Louis freezes, immediately embarrassed. “I was scared to see you.”

“I’m not scary, Lou.”

Louis looks up from where he had started playing with his napkin. “No, I…I know. I was scared of the situation. I just wanted it to go well so badly. I worked myself up thinking of all the ways it could go wrong. He came for the weekend to support my bad ideas.”

“I don’t think it was a bad idea. I’d say it has gone well, yeah?”

Louis nods and takes a risk. “Yeah, Haz.”

Louis decides the butterflies in his stomach are worth Harry’s answering smile.

Louis tells Harry about his days on his university football team. Harry tells Louis about the café. They talk about their families. Harry’s sister is in school for journalism. Louis’ sisters are all performing well in their studies. Their mums are as lovely as ever.

“I think of them all the time. Anne and Gemma. Robin, too. I’m glad they’re doing well.”

Harry nods. “Oh, yeah. Gemma loves school. She’s brilliant. And Mum is still her silly self. Not much has changed here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Louis says, raising an eyebrow. Harry looks at him quizzically, sipping his wine. “You’re very different.”

Harry chuckles. “I don’t really think so. I’m just a bit taller and my hair is a little longer. Other than that, same old Harry.”

Louis could name all of the changes he has noticed, from the top of Harry’s curly head to the tip of his worn boots that must be his favorite. But he realizes that Harry is right. He is the same Harry. In all the ways that matter. His laugh is the same, high and bright and colorful, ringing like the bell over the door at the café. His dimples are there, as deep as they ever were. His eyes are still that emerald green, fierce and captivating and so kind. His love for his family hasn’t diminished in the slightest. His gentleness still spreads light and hope and happiness to everyone it touches. He thinks of the little girl with the flower crown who had been enchanted by Harry in the garden. He is so good. He is so beautiful. He always has been.

Three hours pass, and they finish off half of each of their pasta dishes, five of the garlic bread loaves, and two bottles of the wine Harry thoughtfully selected. Louis feels disgusting and a little tipsy and very happy.

Their extremely patient waiter, who will definitely be receiving a large tip tonight, informs them that they are closing and while they may take their time, they will have to leave at some point tonight.

“I feel awful. Is it really that late?” Harry slurs.

“Afraid so. Let’s get some bags for the rest of this and head out.”

Once they’ve drained their wine glasses for what feels like the hundredth time, they walk through the garden toward the gate, leftovers in hand and smiles on their faces.

“I guess you won’t be getting cuddled tonight?”

“Huh?” Harry suddenly looks panicked.

“Gracie?” Louis reminds him curiously. Why is he being weird?

“Oh! I thought you meant a person and I was thinking that I don’t have a person and wondering why you were asking me that but you were asking about my dog, that makes more sense,” he rambles.

And…okay. Louis has this problem in which he can’t control his facial expressions. They just scream to anyone looking at him, “This is what I’m thinking!” So he’s probably looking at Harry like he just sprouted another head. Harry must have drunk more than one of those bottles of wine. Now that Louis thinks back on the night, he realizes that he only drank three glasses himself. So yeah. Harry is like…proper tossed. Okay. So he doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“Good thing I don’t have a person because my breath is so terrible I can taste it. Good thing I’m not kissing anybody tonight. Nobody likes garlic kisses,” Harry continues rambling.

On one hand, Louis is selfishly glad that Harry doesn’t have a person to kiss tonight. But on the other hand, he wishes he did. And that it was him.

Louis realizes with a pang of nausea that he doesn’t know where Harry lives. There is no way he’s letting Harry wander off into the night alone in his drunken stupor. So he decides to bring him to Anne’s. This won’t be the least bit awkward.

“Come on, Haz. Gotta get you home. You want to see your mum?”

“Sure thing, chicken wing,” Harry says, bursting into laughter.

“Oh my God, you dork. Let’s go, move those giraffe legs. There you go.”

By some miracle, they make it to Harry’s childhood home. And Louis freezes in the street. Fear takes over his brain and forbids his body from moving any closer to the house. The last time he was here, he made the worst mistake of his life.

Harry grabs his hand and drags him toward the house only to have Louis pull away and increase the distance between their bodies.

“Harry, I have to go,” he says, his voice shaking.

Harry seems to sober up just long enough to snort and say as quietly as the night, “Heard that one before.”

_Take a deep breath. Stay standing. Make sure he goes inside and then get the hell out of here._

“Goodnight, Haz.”

Harry doesn’t respond. He just turns and walks up the porch steps. He knocks and shortly after is let into the house. Louis catches a glimpse of Anne’s face and knows she sees him. He walks away as quickly as he can, before she can so much as wave. Not that she would. Why would she? He broke her son's heart.

His head is pounding and his heart is throbbing. He feels like he wants to cry, but nothing comes even as Harry’s house disappears in the distance. Maybe he wants to scream into the darkness. See if anything comes back to him.

“Fuck!” he screams, feeling a smidgen of relief at the outburst. “I love you!” His chest tightens, and he thinks he might have actually been right about wanting to cry. “Please love me back!” he yells with all of the air in his lungs and the full strength of his vocal cords. He falls to his knees in the middle of the quiet street. “Please, Harry,” he whimpers. “Please…I love you.” Tears drip and soak into the gravel under his hands, and he has to resist pushing his face into the hard ground just to feel anything at all.

He manages to stand eventually, stumbling the rest of the way to his flat. He lets himself in, hot tears falling from his eyes.

He tells himself he’s never drinking again. He knows that’s not the problem.

He isn’t drunk off of wine. Just a sweet, gorgeous boy with bright green eyes and a mended broken heart. He wishes he could say the same about his own.


	5. Chapter 5

“How about I spend another weekend in Holmes Chapel,” Niall suggests, his voice sounding far away, clearly distracted.

“Niall, that’s really not necessary.”

“It’s not like it’s a chore to spend time with my best mate, yeah? We can go out and drink a little. Or a lot. Find a chill place where we can just hang somewhere I won’t be forced to sit on the world’s nastiest couch.”

“You shut your damn mouth, Horan,” Louis says sternly, a secret smile on his face. “That couch is my most prized possession. You’ve insulted my honor for the last time.”

“All right, drama queen. Figure your shit out, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Louis hangs up and lets his phone drop out of his hand and onto his duvet. What’s the point? Of like…anything? Getting out of bed? No point, he doesn’t have a job. Taking a shower? No point, it’s not like he’s trying to impress anyone.

After wallowing in self-pity for another hour or two – who really knows how long it is, whole days are blurring together at this point – he decides to go feel bad for himself at his mum’s house rather than his own flat. A change of scenery and all that. He scrubs his face and brushes his teeth, not even bothering to look in the mirror. He snatches a granola bar from the bowl on his kitchen counter, slides into his old trainers that have not been untied in more than a year, and steps into the hallway, locking the door before descending the stairs and walking down the street sluggishly.

“Hi, Mum,” he says tiredly upon entering the small house. It smells like almond cookies and his mum’s perfume.

Jay looks up from where she’s bending over in front of the oven. “Good morning, baby bear. What are you doing here, love? The girls are at school.”

“Just needed a snuggle.”

Jay steps over to him and wraps her arms around him, squeezing so tightly it borders on painful. “What happened? Don’t lie to me.”

“Mum, I never lie to you.”

“I know, love. Let me finish up in here, and we can talk. Go sit down. Grab your quilt. You want tea?”

Louis nods and lets her slip away. She comes into the living room minutes later with a soft, knowing smile. Louis knows she won’t press him, that he will just have to say it.

He takes a deep breath and lets out all in one exhale, “I saw Harry last Friday and we talked about stuff and he seemed happy to see me and then we went to  _Luna_  on Saturday and he got drunk and I freaked out because I’m scared because I’m still in love with him and we haven’t talked in five days and I don’t know what to do.”

Jay reaches out and places her hands on both sides of Louis’ face, bringing him down a touch to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that, Mumma.”

“Yes, I do. Don’t talk back,” she winks at him.

Louis smiles and leans into her warm embrace.

“Baby, you’ve loved him since we moved here when you were twelve and he was ten and you both could not go one day without the other. For goodness’ sake, the number of times Anne and I caught you boys sneaking out in the middle of the night or when you were grounded should be embarrassing for you. But you know why I let you get away with it?”

Louis looks up from where he has his face buried in her neck. “Why?”

“The same reason why I know everything will be okay this time around. He loves you, too. He always has.”

She’s just trying to make him feel better. Of course she thinks that. Harry probably does love him, actually. He wouldn’t have agreed to have dinner if he didn’t still care about him at least a little. But Harry doesn’t love Louis the way Louis loves Harry. Like he can’t properly breathe air that doesn’t smell like Harry’s woodsy cologne and the new surprise of apple-scented shampoo he noticed as Harry draped himself all over Louis on the walk home from the restaurant that night. Like he would rather be in agonizing pain, desperate for Harry every moment of every day, rather than be away from him ever again. Harry doesn’t have nightmares about that storm, doesn’t wake up drenched in sweat, cock hard and leaking in his joggers, images of Harry’s eyes and hands and curls and arse burned into his sleep-heavy brain. Those particular dreams have gotten more intense in the past week, and Louis may actually die.

Jay runs her fingers through Louis’ hair, lightly scratching his scalp. “You want to watch some trashy TV until we can go get the girls from school?”

He nods and snuggles up even closer to his favorite person in the world. _It’s going to be okay._ He would fight anyone else on that, but when his mum says it with so much love in her voice and wisdom in her eyes, he wants to believe it. He wants to believe it so badly.

{~~~}

“Let’s go, Tommo! We don’t have all night!”

“I swear to God, Neil, if you do not chill out right now, I’m not going anywhere with you. We do, in fact, have all night, and you’re getting on my nerves.”

That’s pretty much how the evening goes until they finally leave Louis’ flat and head down the street toward  _Ed’s_. He hadn’t told Niall that his twenty some odd hours of insisting tonight would be good for him was not really necessary. He was happy to go. It’s just nice to have an inebriated Niall fuss over him.

His buddy Ed had just opened up his pub when Louis had picked up and moved to London, and he had never had the chance to visit. He knows he and Niall will get on swimmingly, and it’ll be fun to surprise an old friend. He’s just going to throw back a few pints and listen to a bit of live music. Whoever Ed has play regularly or has just found this week, he doesn’t know, but he’s sure it will be quite enjoyable. Ed is ridiculously talented himself, so Louis trusts in his ability to scavenge other good musicians.

He just needs to relax for a night, spend time with his best mate.  Not worry about Harry for just one night.

Upon entering the small, crowded pub they grab two stools at the bar and Louis yells as loudly as he can muster, “Eddy, me boy!”

Ed whips around with a look of bewilderment on his face, which immediately turns into excitement when he sees Louis.

“Louis fuckin’ Tomlinson. No way! What on Earth are you doing here, mate?”

Louis laughs and reaches out to shake Ed’s hand when Ed’s shirt sleeve rides up to expose what looks like a finished coloring book inked onto his pale skin.

“Oh my God! Your arm is insane! Are you tattooed like this everywhere?”

“Just a little decoration,” Ed laughs. “Are you back, man? Who’s this?”

Niall reaches out and grasps Ed’s hand. “Niall Horan. Best mate to Tommo here. No tattoos, but I  _would_  like a pint.”

“Coming right up. Tomlinson?”

Louis nods, smiling so hard his cheeks will most likely be aching soon. It’s going to be a good night.

Ed comes back with their glasses moments later. “We really need to catch up later, yeah? I’m a bit busy at the moment, but I should mention—”

The sound of disjointed applause fills the room, and Ed looks up with a hint of discomfort written on his face. Louis follows his gaze until he sees him, sitting down on a stool in the middle of the tiny raised area acting as a stage. He’s holding a guitar, and Louis is confused and horrified.

“Hello everyone. Me again.” He fumbles with his guitar for the longest moment of Louis’ life. “I’m Harry. It’s nice to see so many familiar faces. I have a few new covers for you all tonight.” The audience whoops and cheers and claps their hands together.

This is not what was supposed to happen tonight.

Niall looks torn between laughing hysterically and running out of the pub. Louis turns around to face Ed, who is shrugging apologetically. “I was literally in the middle of warning you when he got up there. I’m sorry, mate.”

“Does he know I’m here?” Louis questions him frantically. It comes out like an accusation.

“What?” Ed pins him with a look of total confusion. “No? I don’t know how he would? I mean, I didn’t even know you were here until five minutes ago. Louis, nobody even knows you’re back, why would anybody think you were in my pub?”

“Harry knows,” Louis says too quietly for either of his friends to hear. He jumps off of his barstool and glides as stealthily as he can to the back of the room. He can’t let Harry see him. He watches as Harry adjusts the microphone so that it sits nearly against his lips.

He strums a few chords and starts singing. “Oh my God, it’s you. I never thought I’d see you here. Looks like all is well, like you’re having a hell of a good time.”

Louis freezes. Is he completely delusional or is this song like…extremely relevant to his situation? _Calm down, he doesn’t know you’re here. You’re just being paranoid._

Louis doesn’t exactly hear most of Harry’s first song, still trying to process the fact that Harry is singing. Out loud. In front of people. And he’s  _good_. Like  _really, really good_. Louis is mesmerized. He manages to catch the last verse as Harry closes out the song.

“I got a big smile on my face, it’s the best one I can fake. I’m as happy as half a heart can do, but I miss you.”

Louis absolutely cannot breathe. All of the air in this room is being used up by Harry, and Louis cannot breathe. Harry doesn’t even pause. He just keeps playing until it becomes obvious that he’s moved on to another melody, another song.

Oh God, he can’t do this. Not if Harry is just going to play song after song to remind Louis of all the things he wasn’t supposed to think about tonight. Harry has increased his tempo and is playing a sort of beat on his guitar when he says, “So this next one is a song by Augustana. They’re one of my favorite groups, and I heard this song the other day and knew I had to play it for you all tonight.”

He changes his notes just enough for Louis to recognize the song and instantly be overcome by a wave of nausea. He presses his palms into his closed eyes and focuses on breathing, nearly missing the entire song. But he snaps out of his state of panic before it’s too late.

“When the walls come crashing in, when the flames come coasting in, just remember time again, I still ain’t over you. Hey!” Harry plays the instrumental piece perfectly, raw emotion on his face. He looks so serious and so beautiful, the stage lights reflecting in his eyes and off of his soft, brown curls.

“I’m the blood in your veins. I’m the cold when it rains. I’m your heart when it breaks.”

Louis has to get of here. Where the hell is Niall? He’s going to have to leave without him because there is no way he is leaving through the front door. He spots the rear exit and stumbles out into the night.

And he’s trapped. Amazing.

The back door leads to the employee’s break area, which is completely secure. No way out. A pack of smokes lay on the small table, and Louis doesn’t have to think twice. They’re probably Ed’s anyway, he wouldn’t mind. He lights up and takes a drag, feeling the tension leave his body. He sits on the ground, ignoring the chairs placed haphazardly around the table.

Louis has about ten million thoughts in his head, all of them scrambling and fighting for his undivided attention. He feels so overwhelmed. He’s confused and irritated and embarrassed and so, so sad. Harry was singing sad songs. Harry is supposed to be happy. He thought he was.

Niall bursts through the door. “Louis! What’s wrong? Sorry, took me a while to get here, it’s mad in there. You okay?”

Louis shakes his head and lifts his hand to show Niall the cigarette.

“One’s okay. It’s okay. You’re having a tough time, mate. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“He was singing about me.”

Niall sighs and takes a seat next to him. “Seemed like it.”

“I’m not crazy?”

“Well yeah, but—” he cuts off when Louis slaps him hard across the chest.

“Ow! If you’d let me finish! For Christ’s sake, Louis! I was going to say that you’re crazy but not about this. You dick.”

Louis jumps to his feet, taking one last drag of the stolen cigarette and tossing the filter into a nearby pail. “Are you going to judge me or be upset with me if I say I want to go home?”

“I’d be confused, but I wouldn’t judge you. We can go if you want.”

“Why would you be confused? What do you mean?” Louis can’t stand when Niall looks at him like that, like he’s the biggest idiot on the planet. “Don’t look at me like that! Why are you confused?” he nearly whines.

Niall stands and raises his hands in an almost defensive manner. “I’m sorry, I just…I thought you would want to stay. This is what you want, Louis. And I’m confused because you’re acting like it’s a bad thing. You’re all over the place, man.”

“Niall, what the hell are you on about? Harry was in there singing sad songs about faking smiles and having a broken heart all because of seeing someone he didn’t want to see, and I think it’s pretty obvious that someone is me.”

Niall grips his shoulder hard, his eyebrows furrowed. “Every single song he just sang was about missing someone. He sang a song called  _Still Ain’t Over You_ ,” Niall exaggerates by signing quotation marks with his fingers in the air. “Louis! He misses you, man! And I don’t know Harry, so I can’t really assume anything, but all the signs point to him still loving you! You’re scared, and that’s totally understandable, but that fear is making you misread things. They were sad songs, but guess what, dude?! They were love songs! And you’re driving me insane because you can’t see what’s happening right in front of you.”

Louis pushes past Niall and hears him yell in frustration behind him.

Inside, Harry is still going strong. “Go on, hitch a ride on the back of a butterfly. There’s no better way to fly to get to me. I look around at what I got and without you it ain’t a lot, but I got everything with you, everything.”

This is too fucking much. He maneuvers around drunk bodies, aiming for the door. Niall has apparently caught up to him, now more or less shielding Louis from the stage and from Harry’s view. Louis prays he doesn’t notice them desperately trying to escape.

Upon thinking about Harry, Louis realizes the music has stopped. Harry is talking into the microphone, thanking his audience. He must have finished his set. _Get out!_  his mind begs him frantically.

They make it to the door and stumble outside. It has gotten colder somehow in the few minutes it took them to cross the room and exit the other side of the building. Louis shivers, struggling to breathe evenly.

“Niall,” he breathes shakily. “Please let’s just go. I just want to go home.”

Niall considers him, staring straight into his eyes for what feels like a decade. Then he reaches out and brings Louis’ arm to rest across the back of his neck for support and starts walking.

His thoughts run rampant as they trek across town. _Niall doesn’t know what you did. He knows the bare minimum, the basic facts. He knows you loved Harry and you broke his heart and now it’s five years later and you’re even more in love with him than you were before. He doesn’t know that Harry could not possibly love you. That he never will and this is all some foolish fantasy._

When they step into Louis’ flat, Niall urges him to take a shower, promising him tea when he gets out. After, they sit on the couch for a while, Niall watching golf and Louis staring at the wall, his racing thoughts drowned out for the time being with the deafening sound of white noise. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Niall glancing at him every minute or so, like Louis is some kind of fragile bird. It’s so annoying.

“Well, I’m beat. I’m going to shower and hit the sheets. Are you okay?”

Louis nods and places his cold cuppa on the coffee table. “Goodnight.”

He can feel Niall’s eyes on him until he closes his bedroom door. He strips down to his pants and climbs into his bed, pulling the covers over his head.

He dreams of Harry again. Of the gold flecks in his green eyes and the freckle on his top lip. Of his slow, deep voice and his bright giggles. They’re in the park, and Louis twists and turns and whimpers in his sleep because he knows how this goes. The rain comes, and it doesn’t stop. It never stops until he wakes up screaming, burning tears falling from his tired eyes, night after night.

It never fucking stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When will Louis get a grip? I don't know.
> 
> Thank you for reading and for the lovely kudos and comments!! You're a writer's dream come true.


	6. Chapter 6

Louis wakes the next morning with a pounding headache. He barely drank. That’s not what this is about. He weakly throws the covers from his body and walks to the kitchen. He jams his big toe on the bottom of the cabinets and cries out in pain, jumping around on his uninjured foot.

“Goddamnit fuck shit, cocksucking shit fuck! Ow!”

He groans in frustration once the pain has subsided a little and slinks down to the kitchen floor. It’s dirty. He really needs to clean his flat. With one final groan, he picks himself up by the counter, pours himself a glass of cold water, and runs through a mental list of chores. That’s what he’ll do today in order to pretend his life isn’t one huge, never-ending disaster.

He washes the few dishes in his sink, wipes down the kitchen counter, and sweeps and mops the tiled floor. He moves on to the loo, scrubbing the shower and the toilet and wiping the mirror above the sink clean of fingerprints and any traces of spit flicked onto it from his bad habit of flossing entirely too close to the mirror. In the living room, he begins gathering empty crisp bags and plastic cups when he realizes for the first time that Niall has disappeared.

What the hell? Where would he even go?

Louis walks back to his bedroom and grabs his phone. Dead. Of course. He connects it to the charger and returns to the living room to finish his fun day of cleaning. He pulls the cushions off the couch and runs his hand along the surface, pushing miscellaneous items onto the floor. He’ll leave the mess for now and vacuum it up later. He wipes down the coffee table, patting himself on the back for using a cleaning spray and a cloth rather than his hand for once. He gathers the shoe collection growing in a corner of the room, mostly his but some of them belonging to Niall, and lines them up somewhat neatly by the front door. Lastly, he vacuums, the poor machine wheezing with exhaustion by the time he’s gone over the small room. His mum is right, he is a slob.

He walks to his bedroom once again and turns on his phone to see four new texts from Niall.

_Hey Tommo, went out for a walk. Wanted to check out your hometown a bit but figured you would want to sleep in. Call me if you need anything_

_This place is so charming, I might move back here with ya_

_You better not still be sleeping. Wake up_

_Noodles for dinner? I have a hankering_

Louis smiles, relieved that Niall is still in Holmes Chapel and apparently back to his nonchalant self after last night. He texts back an overall response to all of the messages.

_You can stay, we like you here. I’ve been up for a few hours, and you’ll be thrilled to know I cleaned the flat. Noodles sound perfect, I know a place. Come home, we need to talk._

He doesn’t get an immediate response, so he places his phone back in its place on his bedside table and bundles up his sheets and duvet to wash, throwing them into a pile in the hallway for now. He tidies up his small closet and makes the executive decision that his carpet is clean enough. He tosses his sheets into the washing machine and returns to his beautiful couch, feeling triumphant.

He points the remote at the television, turning it to some old, black-and-white movie and muting the volume. He settles in with a warm blanket, and it isn’t long before he dozes off.

{~~~}

_“Louis, I don’t want to do this anymore.”_

_“Come on, curly. Just finish this page, and then we can watch that stupid movie you love so much because you’re a giant sap with a million feelings.”_

_“But I don’t get it, and I’m just getting upset. I need to take a break.”_

_“Harry, you can do this. Just ten more minutes, and you won’t have to think about school for the rest of the day.”_

_Harry huffs and lies back on Louis’ bed. “Fine. But then_ Love Actually _. Promise.”_

_Louis crawls over Harry’s body and hovers over his face, his breath hitting Harry’s lips. “I promise.”_

_Harry smiles and pulls Louis down so that their bodies are pressed against one another. Harry kisses him until he pulls away._

_“No, sir. Not until you finish your homework,” Louis laughs lightheartedly._

_Harry groans and sits up. Louis walks him through three more problems, and they never get around to watching the movie._

_Later, when Harry has left after forty goodbye kisses, Louis shimmies up to his mum in the kitchen. “Mum?”_

_“Yes, love?”_

_Louis attempts to look as desperate as possible and pleads, “I need a vacation.”_

_“Says the seventeen-year-old.”_

_“I’m almost eighteen.”_

_Jay eyes him suspiciously. “Are you really that stressed out or do you have something specific in mind that you’re trying not to ask me for in hopes that I’ll suggest it myself?”_

_Louis rolls his eyes and drops his dramatic expression. “Fine. Harry needs a vacation.”_

_“Ah. Still not enjoying maths?”_

_“No, he’s so worried about it, but then he gets overwhelmed and just wants to give up. I was thinking we could all take a trip together this weekend. Maybe the beach? You and Anne can sunbathe, and Lottie and Fiz and Gemma can do whatever they do, and I can take care of Haz. And the twins have been wanting to spend a weekend with Nan anyway. What do you think?”_

_“Well, don’t you have this all planned out?” He doesn’t have to hold his breath for long before Jay nods, a twinkle in her eye. “Go pack a bag.”_

_The next day, Louis barges through the door to the café and spots Harry walking into the kitchen. “Hey, pretty boy!”_

_Harry whips around and nearly drops everything he is holding. He blushes, “Good morning, Lou. To what do I owe the pleasure? You aren’t working today.”_

_“Just thought I would come to see my favorite curly-headed boy. Didn’t know I needed a reason.” He takes Harry’s face between his hands and smacks a loud kiss onto his lips._

_The blush grows brighter, his face warm and glowing. “You don’t.”_

_“Glad we agree. I’m just going to sit here and watch you being adorable, if that’s quite all right with you.”_

_Harry nods and has begun organizing the pastry case for the day when his phone rings from where sits on the back counter. Louis tries to control his smile. Harry answers, “Hi, mum. I can’t really talk, I’m at work.”_

_Louis can only imagine what Anne must be saying on the other side of the line, but he knows the moment she tells Harry about the trip because his eyes go wide and he smiles hard, those beautiful dimples coming out to play. Harry chats with his mum for another minute or so before he hangs up and promptly runs around the counter to pull Louis off of his stool and kiss him silly, his arms tight around Louis’ bum and Louis’ legs wrapped around Harry’s waist._

_Louis feigns ignorance and asks through laughter and Harry’s unrelenting kisses, “What could your mother have possibly said to get you this hot and bothered?”_

_“We’re going to the beach! Surprise! Mum said I seemed stressed out and that she and Jay thought it might be time for a beach weekend!”_

_Louis laughs and hugs Harry as best as he can in their current position. “A beach getaway sounds perfect. Let’s do it.”_

_Harry doesn’t know that Louis’ duffel was packed twelve hours ago and is sitting on his bed, ready to go. He doesn’t need to. As long as he’s happy._

_{~~~}_

_Friday comes, and the two boys and their mums and sisters pack themselves into Jay’s vehicle to head to the beach. They’ve booked three rooms in the small motel alongside the sea, one for the girls, one for Louis and Harry, and one for their mums so that they might have just a few minutes of quiet relaxation. They packed swimsuits and towels and pyjamas as well as a few dozen assorted sandwiches, bags of fruit, crisps, and sweets. The heat of summer has not yet departed, and the rain has promised to stay away. Harry is bundled up in an oversized jumper to shield him from the cool air blowing from the car’s air vents, his lips still puffy from sleep and his curls frizzy from being pressed into Louis’ pillow the night before. He leans into Louis when they settle into their seats and sleeps the whole way. Louis couldn’t be happier if he tried._

_Upon arrival, everyone practically throws their items into their motel rooms and runs toward the water. Harry has finally woken up fully, and when they step up to the cold water together, Louis takes Harry’s hands and lifts them up to his face, hiding those gorgeous green eyes._

_“Count to one hundred,” he whispers._

_Harry simply smiles and starts counting aloud, trusting Louis, as always._

_Louis runs as fast as he can to a formation of boulders in the distance. He can easily make it there before Harry reaches one hundred, but his excitement carries him faster than is truly necessary. He dives behind the largest rock and crawls into a small opening, trying to control his breathing from the running and the unbridled happiness._

_Before long, he hears Harry’s voice carrying down the shore, calling out Louis’ name._

_“Oh heavens above! Where is my sunshine?! Where has he gone?! My poor heart cannot take the pain!” Louis snickers, picturing Harry’s arms flailing about dramatically, a smile on his beautiful face. Harry starts singing, and Louis can’t figure out why his stomach feels weird suddenly. He’s probably just hungry. He didn’t eat on the drive, not wanting to wake the boy sleeping so peacefully on his collarbone._

_“You are my sunshineeeee, my only sunshineeeee. You make me happy, when skies are grey.” His voice is getting closer, and Louis is gripped by a silly bout of panic, the kind of exciting, faux terror that comes with playing hide-and-seek with a cute boy. He struggles to stay silent and still. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you, so please don’t take my sunshine awayyyyy.” Before Louis has time to choose between staying hidden and jumping out to applaud Harry’s dramatically terrible singing, Harry drops to his knees in the sand outside of the small opening into which Louis has crammed himself._

_“Found you, my sunshine,” Harry sings gleefully._

_Louis exits his cave, squeezing past Harry, running back toward their families, hearing him yell out behind him to wait up. He slows down, secretly willing Harry to catch him. He does, bringing Louis to the ground in a jumble of limbs. Louis wants to kiss him. He thinks Harry wants to kiss him, too. But their mums are sitting nearby on their left and Gemma is teaching Louis’ sisters how to boogieboard not ten meters away on their right. They will have plenty of time for kissing later._

_They walk over to their mums, giving them both kisses on the cheek, and take a couple of the sandwiches and crisp packages from the cooler. They lay their matching towels out on the sand and eat their lunch. Harry laughs with a mouthful of bread and cheese, and Louis looks at him inquisitively._

_“What’s so funny?”_

_“I was just about to say how tired I am, and I realized that we’ve only been here for maybe two hours and we haven’t even properly gone in the water.”_

_Louis chuckles, “You’ve worn me out, Haz. I’m not as young as I used to be.”_

_It was a joke, but Harry doesn’t laugh. He’s quiet for a while, looking out at the water sparkling with the light of the sun. Finally, he speaks._

_“You know…I think about us sometimes. What things will be like when we’re older.” Louis doesn’t dare interrupt, so Harry continues. “I think about coming here with you when we’re grown up. Like proper adults with jobs and weekend plans. I think we’ll have a dog. And you’ll still want to play hide-and-seek, and I’ll still call you my sunshine. Maybe sometimes we’ll come without our mums so I can snog you on the beach.”_

_Neither of them are smiling when Louis turns his head toward Harry. This is too important. They both lie back on their towels, nothing in their eyes except each other. Harry looks scared or nervous or something, and Louis can’t handle that. He reaches out and takes Harry’s hand in his, slipping his fingers into the spaces between Harry’s._

_“What kind of dog?”_

{~~~}

Louis sits up, blinking in the dark living room, wondering how the hell he fell asleep for so long. Niall walks in, his timing impeccable.

“You sleepin’, Tommo?”

“Yeah. Fell asleep. Didn’t really mean to. Had a dream,” he mumbles disjointedly.

Niall looks at him sympathetically. “Good or bad?”

Louis smiles. It hurts, but the pain is sweet. It’s not quite a sting, but a dull ache, a longing.

“Good,” he decides. “I’m sorry for freaking out on you last night.”

“It’s all right. I get it.”

Louis hesitates before continuing. “I’m going to go see Harry at the café tomorrow. I don’t even know why or what I’m planning to say, but…I just have to. I need to know what page he’s on. And if it’s even remotely close to my page.  If we’re even in the same book.”

“Hey.” Niall flops onto the couch and pats Louis’ bouncing knee. “That’s awesome.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Do you need for me to yell at you again?”

Louis snorts and pushes him away. “No, just order me those noodles you promised me. I’m starving.”

Niall calls the number Louis gives him and orders way too much shitty, delicious Chinese food. Louis stays wrapped up in his blanket on the couch, wrapped up in his thoughts.

He has got to stop letting his dreams influence his decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone loves happy, young, carefree Louis and Harry, right? Don't worry, they'll be okay. :)


	7. Chapter 7

Louis wakes up early the next morning and bids Niall farewell. Niall more or less tells him to get his shit together, and Louis doesn’t know if he would rather punch him or hug him. He settles on the latter.

He gets dressed, spending a little more time than what could be considered normal adjusting his fringe, and leaves his flat before he can talk himself out of it.

Upon stepping up to the café door, he notices the sign once again. _Petrichor_. What the hell does that even mean? Is it even English? Of course Harry would find some random word and love it so much he would decide to use it for the name of his business.

He planned to arrive before Harry opened up shop for the day, so he knows he’s probably the only person here. He knocks on the window and waits impatiently, nerves rattling against his bones in the chilly morning air. It’s going to snow soon.

A young man with short hair styled into a quiff and tattoos running down his arms opens the door and says with a smile, “I’m sorry, sir. We won’t be open for about another hour.”

Louis shifts awkwardly. He hadn’t planned for this. “Um…I’m actually looking for Harry. Is he in yet?”

“Oh,” the man's smile broadens. He looks like a puppy dog. Even more so than Niall. “Oh, you must be Louis.”

Apparently he can also read Louis’ mind like Niall. “Yeah…how did you know that?”

“Oh, it’s just Harry mentioned you might stop by. Unfortunately, he's sick and won’t be coming in today. Or maybe even the rest of the week.”

_What? Harry mentioned I might stop by? Why would he even think that?_

Louis’ thoughts are all over the place. He doesn’t know what to focus on first. “Oh. Okay. What, uh…what’s wrong with him? Are his allergies acting up?”

_Way to play it cool, Tomlinson. Super slick. You’re basically James Bond._

The man frowns, and Louis decides immediately that he doesn’t like that. “No, I’m afraid he’s proper sick, mate. Might even be the flu. He’s been in bed since yesterday morning, pale as a ghost. Only gets up to puke. Definitely don’t want him here.”

Louis feels like he’s caught Harry’s sickness. He wants to puke just thinking about Harry tired and sick, lying in bed with no one to bring him soup or fluff his pillows or take his dog for a walk or make him tea to soothe his sore throat. The images bring him unbearable sadness. Harry deserves better.

Louis realizes he hasn’t spoken in some time when the man reaches out to shake his hand. “Liam Payne. Like I said, Harry isn’t here, but you can come in if you want. I understand you used to work here. And I don’t think Harry would mind.”

Louis nods and walks through the doorway, taking a seat at the counter. His favorite counter in the world. It’s so ugly and so perfect. Liam asks if he would like anything before he finishes getting the shop ready, and Louis declines politely.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years.”

“Not all good things, I’m sure,” Louis winces. “How long have you known Harry?”

“Eh…I’d say about…I don’t know, like four years? We met when I moved here when I was eighteen, so yeah. It sucked, man, my family moved my last year of school, and I didn’t know anyone. But Harry kind of took me in and looked out for me even though he’s younger than me. He’s a good one.”

Louis smiles. He really is. Louis knows that better than anyone. Or at least he used to.

“So you guys went to school together and now you work together?”

“Well yeah. And we play together at  _Ed’s_  most weekends. And we live together. He can’t get rid of me,” Liam laughs, and Louis’ insides start to unravel.

_Of course Harry has a boyfriend. And he’s fit. And nice. And probably smarter than you and funnier than you and better than you because he would never hurt Harry the way you did._

“You okay, mate?”

Louis looks up from the counter he’s been staring out blankly for the past several minutes. “Oh…yeah. I’m good. Sorry, just tired.”

 _Wait…Harry had rambled on for five minutes the other night about not having someone to kiss. They could be roommates_ , his brain tosses out as one last smidgen of hope.

Liam chuckles. “Must have had too much fun on Saturday, yeah? I had a family thing, and Harry had to play by himself. I always tell him he’s just as good without me, but he hates it. He’s just not in it for the attention, y’know? Love that guy. Don’t know what I would do without him.”

Louis listens to him speak with no understanding of where he might be going with this. Liam seems to notice Louis’ confusion.

“You said you’re tired, I just figured you might have overdone it at the pub. Harry said you were there Saturday night. I was upset I couldn’t meet you, but I guess it’s okay since we’re meeting now.”

All Louis hears after that is incoherent screaming inside his head. Harry saw him at the pub.  More importantly, Harry saw him fleeing the pub in a panic.

Liam walks to the back when Louis doesn’t respond, coming back with a tray of sweets. “Not to be rude or anything, mate, but you look bloody awful. Maybe you should go to mine and Harry’s and be sick with him? Instead of contaminating everything I’ve been working on all morning?”

Louis knows he’s not sick. He’s confused and jealous and sad and exhausted, but he’s not sick.

Before he can respond, Liam continues, “Told Harry I’d give him some good cuddles when I get home if he isn’t running a fever anymore. Probably shouldn’t if I don’t want to get sick, as well, but what can I say? I just love him too much.”

The string inside of Louis’ chest barely holding him together finally snaps. _Not roommates!_ flickers like a broken neon sign behind his eyelids. _Okay, so Liam just must have not been home that night. Harry has a boyfriend. He’s moved on. You have to move on._

Liam is still talking. “Probably won’t give you the same treatment. Harry would vouch for you, I’m sure, but I don’t really share germs with people I don’t know. No offense.”

He’s laughing. Why is he laughing? This is not funny. Louis feels like he doesn’t understand an inside joke. He knows he probably looks panicked.

He hops off of his stool and holds his hand out as steadily as he can. “It was nice to meet you, Liam. I should go.”

He shakes Liam’s hand, nearly pulling the man over the counter as he steps back, and bolts out the door. He runs toward his flat, ignoring the burn of the cold air on his face and the sweat dripping beneath his jeans that are definitely too tight for running.

Louis can’t decide whether he should give up and let Harry be happy with his new hunky boyfriend or do something even crazier. He could go to Harry. He could ask Liam where they live and go see Harry. He could take care of him the way his boyfriend should be taking care of him. He’s getting angry just thinking about it, Harry alone with no one to care for him when he needs it the most.

That’s all it takes. Louis doesn’t know if Harry even wants him around. But he can’t stand the thought of Harry in pain, and so he decides right then and there to put on his big boy pants and be a good friend to the love of his life.

No big deal.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and dials the number for the café. Liam answers professionally, and Louis takes a deep breath.

“Would you mind if I went over and checked on Harry?”

“Louis?”

“Uh…yeah. Hi again. Would you care if I did that? I just thought I could bring him some food and walk Gracie since he isn’t feeling well.”

“I’m sure he would love that. Why are you asking me? I just suggested that like twenty minutes ago.” He laughs into the phone like Louis’ world isn’t a mess of chaos swirling around him.

“I don’t know where he lives. Where you live.”

Liam gives him their address and apartment number, and Louis thanks him, wishing him a nice day and feeling a little guilty. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is taking care of Harry.

He makes his way to a little restaurant he’s been to with Harry countless times, taking his time as he will definitely have to wait for them to open for lunch. But he doesn’t go back to his flat. And he can’t show up to Harry’s without their amazing chicken soup. That’s his way in. He sits on a bench down the street and watches as people walk by with their dogs and children and friends and lovers.

He feels like he’s doing the right thing. He just hopes Harry agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and commenting and sharing my post. You guys are amazing, and I love every single one of you. <3


	8. Chapter 8

Hours later, Louis stands in front of Harry’s door, painted a dark green in contrast to the white surrounding it. He gulps audibly and checks the takeaway bag one last time, making sure that everything they’ll need is sitting inside with the soup. He reaches a shaky hand out and presses a finger to the buzzer. Breathing isn’t necessary, right?

He doesn’t have to ponder on that question for long before the door creaks open and he hears his name spoken in the loveliest voice imaginable.

“Lou?” Harry coughs from the strain placed on his throat just to whisper Louis’ name. “Why are you here? How did you even know where I live?”

“I met Liam at the shop today, and he told me you weren’t feeling well. He gave me your address, so I thought I’d try to bring you some soup. Figured if you didn’t kick me out right away, I could meet Gracie and take her out on a walk so you could get some rest. I’m sorry if I’m out of line. I just didn’t want you to have to be sick all alone.”

Harry looks confused, but he doesn’t look upset. Louis thinks he might even see a tiny smile creeping onto his lips. It’s not much, but he’ll take it.

“So are you going to kick me out?”

“Well, you’re not even technically in yet, so…”

“I have chicken soup from Rosa’s, so I think I  _am_  probably in already,” Louis smirks.

Harry’s smile grows, and Louis silently applauds himself for recognizing the signs. He opens the door further, and Louis can see that he’s wrapped in a fluffy duvet, the bottom dragging the floor behind him. “My apartment’s upstairs,” Harry says, pointing toward the narrow staircase.

Louis closes the door behind him quietly and follows Harry up the stairs. It takes forever with Harry moving at a glacial pace, but Louis doesn’t rush him. He would carry him if he could. But Harry is now significantly bigger than him, and it probably wouldn’t be appropriate anyway.

They make it to the top, and Harry lets them both into his apartment. Louis toes off his shoes and places the bag of food on the kitchen island. He looks around and feels like he’s been here before. He hasn’t, but it feels familiar. It’s just Harry’s stuff everywhere that gives him that feeling. This apartment is totally and completely  _Harry_ , and Louis loves it. It’s clean and organized but casual and comfortable. That sweet scent of a flower bed that follows Harry wherever he goes hasn’t been overtaken by the smell of the wood burning in the fireplace, but rather they have mingled together to form something wonderful and intoxicating. Harry has already waddled back to his living room, and Louis feels relief bloom inside his chest at Harry’s comfort with his presence.

Louis steps into the living room, ready to potentially ruin that. “I’m going to say this before I lose my nerve.” Harry looks up, too tired to even switch between expressions.

“Okay. I know you saw me at  _Ed’s_  the other night and I’m sorry for avoiding you. I didn’t think you knew I was there and honestly, if I had, I probably wouldn’t have behaved any better. I was scared because of how things went last Saturday. I had fun with you at  _Luna_ , I knew I would, but then when we were walking to your mum’s, you said some things that made me freak out a bit. I mean, I know you were drunk, and it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you probably don’t remember anyway. But then I saw your old house, and I had to leave. And I’m sorry, but that’s why I assumed you didn’t want to talk to me all week. So then when I saw you out of the blue, no warning at all, I panicked. It was shitty, and I’m sorry. We need to seriously talk about how this is going to work, us being friends again. You said you wanted that, and I do, too. So much, Haz. But I feel like we keep running away from each other. And I just want to be friends. No drama. No confusion. No wondering what the other is thinking. I hope that’s what you want.”

He takes in a huge breath of air as inconspicuously as possible, waiting for Harry’s response. Hoping beyond hope that he feels the same.

“You are my friend,” Harry sniffles. _Shit, is he crying?_  

“Harry, don’t cry—”

“I’m not crying, I’m sick. And you are my friend. You’ve been my best friend for over ten years. Did you think that you stopped being my best friend just because you left?”

Louis is utterly lost. “Uh…kind of? We haven’t talked in five years…”

Harry is still sniffling. It really looks like he’s crying.

“I still considered you my best friend when you were gone, so honestly, all of the drama you’re fussing over is totally on you. I didn’t call you last week because you looked terrified when you literally ran away from me that night. I didn’t bother you at the pub because it was painfully obvious how desperately you were trying to avoid me. I’m not going to force you to be friends with me. Every time you have come to me in the past couple of weeks, I have let you in. You came to the café, and I talked to you as soon as I could even though I was insanely busy. You asked me to meet you in the park, and I did. You asked me if I would like to have dinner with you – at the restaurant you took me to on our first real date, I might add – and I said yes. We had said dinner, and you yourself just said it was lovely, and then you did what you always do. You left. You always leave for no reason.”

Louis can feel the tears prickling behind his eyes. Harry is right. He doesn’t know why he does this. He always has. And Harry is calling him out on it for the very first time. He doesn’t want to fight. He just wants to feed him soup. He wishes he could walk over to Harry right now and sit in his lap, whisper apologies reinforced by soft kisses. He can’t. But he also can’t pretend that’s not what he wants more than anything else in the world.

“I’m sorry. I know I do that. I’m sorry.” He stops talking in order to look up at the ceiling and silently beg his tears to stay where they are. This is not what was supposed to happen today. Then again, when does anything ever go according to Louis’ plan when Harry is involved?

“Lou, I’m not trying to like…beat you up or anything. We’re being honest, yeah? I’m being honest with you. It might be coming out a little harsh because I feel like I might actually be dying, but I just really can’t handle this back-and-forth bullshit. I want to be your friend. I miss you. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”

Louis closes the distance between them without another thought and throws his arms around Harry’s neck, kneeing up onto the couch beside Harry’s reclined body.

Harry laughs weakly and coughs again, forcing Louis to let go and sit his bum on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Are we good?” Harry inquires.

Louis smiles, “As long as you accept my apology.”

“Apology accepted. Not even really needed. Can I have my soup now? I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours.”

Louis moves to the kitchen to prepare their lunch and hears Harry turn the television on. He tries not to overthink everything as he warms the soup and pours Harry a glass of milk. He’s always loved milk with his soup. What a weirdo.

Louis loves him so much, the ache of it overwhelming. _You can be friends with him,_ he tries to convince himself. _You can. The alternative is losing him again. Do you want that?_

When Louis returns to the living room, Harry looks up with a bright smile on his face. He looks so sick. He’s still so beautiful. “Look what’s playing!” he exclaims.

Louis places their trays on the coffee table and turns toward the television. _Grease_. Louis’ favorite movie. Of course Harry remembers.

“We don’t have to watch this, you can pick whatever you want.”

“Who says I don’t want to watch John Travolta grinding all over a car? Sign me up,” he slurs.

Louis giggles unashamedly and sits down on the couch. “Alright. Have you taken any medicine recently?”

“Harry shakes his head and points toward the kitchen. Pills are in the bowl on the island, but I have to eat first. They make me fall asleep in like five minutes.”

Louis suddenly realizes something. “Where is Gracie? I thought I would get to meet her today.”

Harry looks at him in confusion and giggles, pointing toward a large, blue chair pushed in the corner of the room. “She’s right there.”

Louis jumps in surprise. There is a fucking huge dog just sitting there silently, watching them. He can’t comprehend how he didn’t see her before.

“Gracie, come here, girl,” Harry coos. “Come say hi to my friend, Louis. You’ll like him. Come on, love.”

Louis smiles as the dog jumps from the chair, stretches leisurely, and trots over toward Harry’s loving voice.

“Louis, this is Gracie. Gracie, Louis.” He chuckles, “Almost rhymes.”

“Wow. If this precious girl didn’t need a walk, I would leave right now.”

“Awww, don’t be mean. Let’s watch this dumb movie and eat lunch so I can take my medicine and pass out. You really don’t mind taking her out for a while?”

Harry’s dog has already claimed Louis’ lap as her new bed. She’s gigantic, but she doesn’t seem to be a troublemaker. “Gracie, you want to go for a walk when your daddy falls asleep? Huh? Would you like that?” Louis scratches behind her pointy ear, and she kicks a leg out into the air between the couch and the coffee table.

Harry groans and laughs some more, nearly spilling his soup. “God, she is so spoiled. I hope the two of you have fun. Try not to charm the whole town.”

They both finish their lunch, not getting very far into the movie at all before Harry starts coughing again and Louis gets up to put their dishes in the sink and grab Harry’s medicine, disturbing a snoozing Great Dane in the process.

A few minutes after Harry has taken his medicine and gotten comfortable on his couch, Louis walks back into the living room to check on him one last time. “You need anything before we go? We’ll be back soon.”

Harry reaches his arms out awkwardly and whines, “Can you stay until I fall asleep?”

Louis knows Harry is asking for a hug. It’s not the first time in Louis’ life that Harry has reached out to him like that. He knows what it means. But he also knows that Harry is quite possibly high right now and that fever does weird things to the brain. He isn’t going to take advantage of Harry in his weakened state.

Louis steps up to Harry’s almost-sleeping form and lowers his arms down to his sides. Before he can take a step back, Harry raises his arms again to wrap them around Louis’ back and pull him down on top of his duvet-covered body. Louis panics and struggles to free himself from Harry’s grip to no avail.

“Harry, let me go,” he says as calmly as he can manage.

“Lou,” he whines.  “Please just lie down with me for a few minutes. I’m so tired.” A quiet sob escapes his throat. “I don’t feel well.”

Louis hesitates for too long and not long enough. He is a terrible, horrible, awful human being. He slips down between Harry’s body and the back of the couch, resting his head on Harry’s chest in as platonic a way as possible so that his face is too far from Harry’s to do anything regrettable.

“Go to sleep.”

Harry sighs and throws his arm around Louis’ body, rigid with tension. His hand falls to Louis’ hip, inches from his arse.

He stays as still as possible, trying to remain calm until Harry falls asleep.  Then he can pretend this never happened.

Louis’ thoughts are interrupted by Harry’s slow, drowsy speech. “’M so glad you’re back, sunshine…only sunshine…favorite sunshine…”

Louis controls himself, body drawn as tight as a bow ready to be shot across an open field, just long enough for Harry to fall into a deep slumber. He gets up off of the couch carefully, gently calls Gracie into the kitchen and connects her leash to the bright pink collar around her neck, and hurries out the door, Harry’s keys in hand and Harry’s words echoing in his ears.

Gracie is going to enjoy a very long walk today because Louis knows he can’t go back until his eyes are dry and his breathing is even once more.

As even as it ever will be around Harry Styles.


	9. Chapter 9

When Louis finally returns to Harry’s apartment, he unclips Gracie’s leash and fills her water bowl. The poor girl laps it all up immediately, making Louis feel awful for exhausting her. He stopped at a café to get her a cup of water – he isn’t a monster – but still, he thinks he worked her a little too hard. He just couldn’t stop crying. He feels like that’s all he does lately.

He tiptoes into the living room and hears soft snores coming from Harry as he lowers himself into what is evidently Gracie’s chair. Louis wonders if it’s a result of Harry’s being sick or if he just snores now. He didn’t before. But a lot can change in five years. Harry certainly has.

He’s so tall now. And he has muscles. A lot of them. And that’s just what Louis can see peeking out of his clothes. Louis thinks bitterly that he and Liam must work out together because Liam is pretty buff, too, from what he could tell. He looks down at his own arms, running a hand over his bicep. He needs to do a little more than play footie every now and then. But he thinks back to when Harry was holding him only a few hours ago, and he realizes he didn’t feel small at all. He just felt safe. Protected. And strong somehow.

Louis continues running his eyes over Harry, knowing just how creepy he’s being but not caring in the slightest. He must have thrown the duvet off of his body in a feverish heat, and his threadbare t-shirt is riding up on his tummy. Louis smiles for two reasons. First, he recognizes that shirt. It’s Harry’s favorite, has been since the day Anne got it for him on a whim. _Rolling Stones_ , it says in bright colors. _Steel Wheels Tour._ He had pulled it over his head that day, rolling up the sleeves and stretching it out a little, and announced that he was officially cooler than Louis. Louis had agreed. The shirt has changed some, too, small holes and tears littering the front and one huge gash that would undoubtedly show off at least one of the tattoos covering Harry’s torso. That sheer blouse he wore to dinner was truly a blessing. Second, Harry’s stomach is still soft. He’s chiseled like a fucking Greek god, but he somehow still has love handles. Tattoos peek out of his navy boxers, and it should be hot. But it’s just endearing. That’s the thing about Harry. He’s somehow unbelievably sexy and ridiculously adorable at the same time, without even trying. Louis is crazy about him.

He notices Harry shivering, just barely but enough to break Louis’ heart in two. He pads over to the couch and is just beginning to pull the duvet back over Harry’s shoulders when he’s met with bright green eyes, puffy from sleep and sickness but still gorgeous. He sits on the edge of the couch and smiles.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

Harry blushes red-hot, and Louis’ stomach flips.

“’S not morning,” Harry slurs, closing his eyes.

Louis presses the back of his hand against Harry’s forehead and swears it almost catches fire.

“Harry.”

Nothing.

“Harry, love.”

His eyelids flicker, but he stays silent.

“Hazzah. You’re burning up. I think we need to get you to a doctor.”

Harry whines quietly. And then he says the worst thing Louis has ever heard in his life.

“’M fine, baby.”

It’s almost like Louis has been waiting for the dagger to pierce his heart without even consciously knowing it was there. It’s been inching closer and closer every minute he has been with Harry since that day in the café, and he thought he was in pain before, but now he realizes how foolish he has been. That was bliss compared to the agony he feels in this moment. He’s stupidly almost angry with Harry for being sick, for not knowing what he’s saying, for not knowing how he’s affecting Louis. But he’s not really. He’s in love with him. And he just realized the second those words left Harry’s mouth that he always will be. He’s thought it before, but now it’s more than just a poetic thing to say. Louis is never going to stop loving Harry, no matter how unrequited his love may be or how much pain it may cause him, and Harry just somehow confirmed his worst nightmare with one word.

He takes a minute to focus on his breathing and makes a decision. He’s going to push whatever boundaries he can without hurting Harry. He’s no longer going to stop himself from touching or laughing or from saying things he desperately wants to say. The only exception to Louis’ new rule will be, of course, the most important thing. But he can’t fix that.  He can’t go that far.

Harry isn’t in love with him.  And Louis will just have to be okay with that.  Be his friend and make things as normal as possible.

He’ll toe the line any time he may get the chance and shower Harry with all the love and affection this beautiful boy deserves. He just won’t tell him the whole truth, that he’s in love with him and always has been and always will be. Harry is affectionate anyway. He probably won’t even think it weird when Louis hugs him or calls him an old pet name.

He straightens his back, sitting a few inches taller. He takes a breath and makes his solemn vow, sending it out into the universe. This is what he is doing now. He feels kind of hysterical. But he has more pressing matters to attend to.

He reaches out and smooths his thumb across Harry’s right eyelid. Harry sighs.

“Haz. Can I please take you to the doctor? Your fever is getting worse, love.”

Harry whines again, but this time he nods.

“I’m going to have to drive your car. I walked here.”

“Key’s in the bowl…kitchen bowl” Harry mumbles. “Don’t wanna come back here after.”

“What do you mean? You don’t want to come home?”

“No.” Harry doesn’t say anything else for more than a few seconds, and Louis thinks he may have fallen back asleep until he says with pain in his voice, “Wanna be with you, not Liam.”

 _Liam isn’t going to like that_ , Louis thinks. But he just told himself he was going to toe some boundary lines, and goddamnit, if Liam wanted his boyfriend here, he should have stayed with him. It’s not like anyone is cheating on anyone. Harry doesn’t love him, and Louis isn’t going to make a move. He’s just taking care of his friend – Harry called him his best friend – and if he has a little extra secret love…well, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

“Okay. What about Gracie?” The dog picks her head up off of the floor at the mention of her name. “Will she be okay here?”

“Liam can take care of her tonight. Can you call him?”

_Great, so I get to be the one to tell Liam that I’m taking his boyfriend home with me._

“Sure.”

He pulls the duvet off of Harry’s body and helps him sit up. “Can you walk to the car? I’ll call Liam on the drive and let him know what’s going on. I just need you to get in the car, okay?”

Harry looks like he’s in a daze. Like he probably doesn’t know who Louis is or what a car is or even what his own name is. Louis is starting to panic with the realization that Harry is like  _seriously_  ill.

He considers running to Harry’s bedroom to throw some clothes into a bag for him, but he decides rather easily that he would rather Harry stretch out whichever of Louis’ t-shirts will fit him than leave him alone for even a second.

After several uncoordinated but ultimately successful efforts in supporting Harry’s body weight and guiding him to the door and down the stairs, Louis helps him into the passenger seat of the car and climbs behind the wheel.

He looks over to tell Harry that he can choose the music, an attempt to lighten the mood, but he’s already sleeping, his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window.

His heart is heavy with the sight of Harry like this. Weak and hurting, his light shining a touch dimmer. He is so lovely, even with heat rash and watery eyes.

Louis presses his hand into Harry’s laying limp in his lap, slipping his fingers into the spaces between Harry’s much longer ones, and whispers every sweet word that comes to him until they pull into the hospital parking lot.

He waits to wake Harry and calls the number for  _Petrichor_  once again. The line rings twice before Liam answers cheerfully.

“Hey Liam, it’s Louis.”

“Oh, hey, man. What’s up?”

“Okay, don’t freak out, but I brought Harry to the hospital. His fever has gotten worse, and he’s barely coherent when he can actually manage to stay awake. I’ve got him, and he’s fine. We’re sitting in the parking lot now. But I wanted you to know what’s going on.”

“Oh shit. All right. Well…I mean, I’ve got to stay here, but keep me updated, yeah? Damn, I wouldn’t have come in today if I knew he was that bad off.”

“There’s actually something else,” Louis cuts in before Liam can keep talking, pissing Louis off even further. How can he be so unaware of how lucky he is? He pushes the words out. “He asked if he could stay at mine tonight? He’s kind of out of it, so I wanted to check with you before I gave him a definite answer.”

“That’s fine, mate. If that’s what Harry wants and you really don’t mind. Just look out for him. I’ll give you a call when I close up shop.”

“Sounds good. I’m going to try to get him inside.”

“Thanks for doing all of this, Louis. Harry was right, you’re a good friend.”

Louis hangs up before the screaming in his head becomes audible. He squeezes Harry’s hand, having never let go of it to drive or call Liam.

“Hazzaaaah,” he coos, jostling Harry’s arm a bit to wake him. “You ready, love? Let’s get you feeling better.”

Harry comes to slowly and nods, and they get out of the car, slowly but surely. Louis holds Harry around his waist and walks him past the hospital entrance.

He never wants to let go.

He has to eventually. A nurse had taken Harry to an examination room, and Louis sat in the waiting room, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could walk through walls. An hour or so after they had taken Harry from him, a doctor approached Louis and told him that Harry would be fine, he just has a very high fever which resulted in mild delirium, and that Louis could be with him in his room. He has never walked to a hospital room faster in his life. He tried running but that option was shot down almost immediately because “this is a hospital, sir, not a track meet.” He almost punched a nurse in the face.

“I really am fine, Lou. I promise.”

“I don’t know if I believe you, you were saying some pretty crazy shit for a while there.”

Louis thought he would get a chuckle, but instead Harry looks away, a pretty pink blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Haz, I’m just kidding around. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Harry looks at him again. “What did I say?”

Louis doesn’t know what to do. Does he tell him the truth? That Harry called him  _baby_ and _sunshine_  and cuddled him and chose him over his boyfriend in his fever high? Or does he lie? Comfort him, maybe make him laugh if he can? Harry will only be hurt and embarrassed if he knows the truth, and Louis feels responsible. Harry is in pain, and Louis is taking care of him, and Harry’s brain got all mixed up. It’s Louis’ fault anyway.

“You called me a bitch.”

Harry’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull. “What?!”

“Yep,” Louis puts on his most serious face. “Just straight up called me a bitch. All I was trying to do was feed you the most delicious chicken soup in the world, and you were like, ‘Louis Tomlinson, you are a huge bitch.’”

Harry eyes him suspiciously, his lips curling up into a smile. _Bingo_. Louis smiles right back and keeps going.

“You were so mean to me, Harry. Never met anyone ruder. Just trying to get you healthy so you can be awake for more than five minutes, and you call me such a nasty word. Tsk tsk tsk.”

Harry laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound Louis has heard all day. “You filthy liar.”

“There is something you need to understand, Styles,” Louis continues. He’s on a roll. He just wants Harry to keep laughing. “I’m not a bitch. I’m a  _bad_  bitch. There’s a big difference.”

They’re both giggling, seemingly in a competition of who can laugh the loudest. They’re going to get kicked out of the hospital. That would be an interesting story.

“You truly are the baddest bitch alive,” Harry says through another round of laughter-induced coughing. _Oops._

“I know,” Louis smirks triumphantly.

“Thank you,” Harry says quietly when he has finally stopped laughing. He wipes tears from his eyes, still smiling sweetly.

“Of course.” _Always_.

Harry’s doctor releases him into Louis’ care after a few hours of small talk interrupted by Harry falling asleep interrupted by his doctor coming in to check the progression of his fever.

On the drive to Louis’ flat, he briefly panics about the state of his flat before remembering with a flash of relief that he recently cleaned. Thank God.

Harry is sleeping again when they arrive, and Louis can’t help but watch him for a few moments before waking him to drag him inside to his couch. He’s always looked so peaceful in his sleep. His right eyebrow still twitches when he’s dreaming. Louis could do this for hours. He used to.

He remembers all those lazy Sunday mornings when he was allowed to watch Harry dream, his head on Harry’s chest, Harry’s breath gently puffing against his forehead. He remembers those long Friday nights when Harry would be exhausted from a week of school. He would cry sometimes, and Louis would hold him tight, whispering lullabies until his shaking stopped and he was finally asleep. He remembers all the times he was jolted awake from nightmares, Harry brushing his hair from his face. “Sunshine, it’s just the moon,” he would say, his hands on his face and his neck and his back, slowly bringing Louis back to reality. “She’s your friend.” And Harry would kiss him like he was some kind of precious gem, a fragile idea that could slip away in the blink of an eye. Louis remembers how Harry would wrap his arms around him so tight, how he would feel hidden from the world underneath the weight of his favorite boy. He remembers how Harry would climb on top of him and lean his head down when Louis was lost in his own mind, when it felt like the bad thoughts were winning. He would place his forearms on either side of Louis’ head so that Louis could see nothing but green eyes, and he’d murmur, “It’s just us. Nothing else matters.” And Louis would believe him.

He shakes his head gently and unclips his seatbelt. He wakes Harry and they make it inside his flat much more efficiently than they had made it out of Harry’s apartment earlier.

“Well, this is it.”

Harry looks around and smiles. He seems to be a little more lucid now.

“This is exactly what I imagined. Although I did expect more of a mess. Do you actually clean up after yourself now?”

“Yes, Harold. I’m an adult.”

“If you say so.”

“You hungry?”

“Starved.”

“I can’t cook.”

“I know.”

“Pizza?”

“Sweet corn, please.”

Soon enough, after Harry has showered and Louis has sat on the couch contemplating his bad life choices for twenty minutes, they are seated across from one another around Louis’ coffee table, eating pizza with sweet corn straight out of the box. It’s the best pizza Louis has ever had.

“So,” Harry starts with a mouth full of cheese and tomato sauce, “I have a proposition for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Liam and I are playing at Ed’s pub again this weekend. I thought maybe you would like to come and like…actually enjoy it. And not hide from me like a freak the whole time.”

Louis flicks a piece of dried cheese at Harry’s head. “I hate you.”

Harry’s breath hitches almost quietly enough that Louis doesn’t hear it. Almost.

“No, you don’t,” he whispers, something like hope shining in his eyes.

Louis smiles. “No, I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my Oasis girls. Thanks for the inspiration with the pizza discourse. I love y'all. #teampizzaandsweetcorn


	10. Chapter 10

“Your couch is, without a doubt, the most wonderful, amazing,  _perfect_  couch my bum has ever had the pleasure to meet.”

“Harry Edward Styles,” Louis says, feigning offense. “Don’t be an arse, I’m very fond of my couch! I’m being serious.”

“Ooooh, pulling out the big guns,” Harry laughs. “You’ve used the middle name card. I see how it’s going to be.”

“You and your tiny arse could not possibly understand the importance of cushion integrity. Please apologize to her, you’ve gone and hurt her feelings.”

“Wouldn’t I understand more than you? You have your own cushioning. With your huge bum. Your argument makes no sense.”

Harry blushes, and Louis wants to make fun of him so badly.

“Well, I have more surface area. Don’t try to distract me by complimenting my arse.”

Harry’s face is almost purple at this point. “I’m sure you’re used to it.”

Louis smacks him in the face with a pillow and neither of them recover from their fits of laughter for several minutes.

When they do calm down, Louis simply looks at him. He can’t help it. Harry notices his gaze and looks down, eyebrows furrowed and pink hitting his cheeks again, though Louis doesn’t know if he is the cause or if it’s the fever.

Before Louis can inquire if he is okay, Harry blurts out, “I’m sorry for insulting your couch. She is truly the best in the world. I’m so glad the two of you have each other.” Louis is about five seconds away from laughing again, but Harry continues to ramble. “I’m going to have to borrow her now, I’m afraid. I’m still loopy from all the medicine they pumped into me at the hospital. And now I have a belly full of pizza, and I’m about to pass out.”

Louis doesn’t want him to go to sleep. He’s being selfish, he knows. But despite Harry’s not feeling well, things have been so good today. He doesn’t want it to end. It all seems so fragile.

"Okay, weirdo.” He grabs his quilt from the basket by the couch and hands it to Harry. “Will this be warm enough? I don’t know how cold you are. I can turn the heat up. Or I could take this and you can have my duvet. You want a jumper?”

Harry smiles and takes the quilt. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m not  _actually_  dying, Lou. Just feel like it a bit. You can relax, okay? I’m already feeling better just being here.”

“Okay,” Louis nods. “Guess I’ll shower and go to bed then. Come get me if you need anything. Don’t be weird and awkward like a guest or whatever,” he rambles. “I want you to feel comfortable.”

“I do,” he murmurs with a soft smile. “Thanks, Lou.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Please go shower, you stink.”

Louis smiles and heads to the loo. After a quick shower, for which Louis prides himself on using both the hot and cold dials – he must be feeling all right, he reckons - he combs his fingers through his wet hair ridding it of any tangles and dabs moisturizer onto his face. After pulling on pants to run across the hall, he enters his bedroom, closing the door and flipping on the fan in the same movement. He puts on his coziest jumper and climbs into his bed, pulling the duvet up to his chin. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He dreams vividly, of a boy with soft curls and electric eyes. The boy is laughing, loud and bright, the sound of it casting a shadow of serenity over everything. The happiness is fleeting, Louis knows. He could describe every detail of this place. The shade of the leaves on the trees, the thickness of the clouds in the sky which will eventually turn grey and cold, the pattern of the chipping paint on the bench on which he always finds himself at the start of this nightmare.

He can’t stop it. He can’t change the outcome. He can’t make it end before the fear and the pain wakes him, his eyes wet with tears and his body shaking from the impact of the distorted memories.

The beautiful boy runs toward Louis and pulls him off of the bench, shouting storm warnings, begging to leave. Pleading for safety and love. Louis never gives him that. He stays put, his body frozen, the muddy ground behaving like glue on the bottom of his shoes, in a park being ripped apart by wind and rain and the screams of a boy that Louis should have protected.

He wakes from the horrifying scene much more calmly than usual. It’s strange. His face is pressed into his pillow, the soft material is damp. That’s pretty normal. To confirm that he’s back in real life, which is decidedly less scary, he stretches his arm up into the air and drops it behind his back to feel the coolness of the sheets, rolling over from his heated front. But his hand doesn’t land on the bed. It lands on the warm chest of the boy from his dreams. Louis feels every cell in his body freeze as quick as lightning. Maybe he’s still asleep after all because there is no way in hell this is really happening.

“You were screaming,” Harry murmurs. Louis jolts backward only to have Harry reach out and gently take his hand in his own. “You okay?”

Louis focuses on Harry’s eyes, just barely visible in the dark room. He hesitates and Harry notices, but he waits patiently for Louis to respond.

“Not really.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

Louis nods, silently begging for him not to ask why.

Harry doesn’t. He grips Louis’ sweaty hand even tighter with his right hand lying on the bed and wipes away a tear running down Louis’ cheek with his left. “It’s okay. Silly sunshine. You always forget how the moon loves you.”

They’re both silent for a few minutes, the sounds in the room limited to Louis’ sniffling and the rhythmic clicking of the fan above.

“Can I stay?” Harry asks quietly. Louis looks up again, and Harry continues. “It’s cold in your living room. It’s cold in here, too, because you’re a crazy person who sleeps with a fan on in the winter, but your covers are warmer.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. This cannot be real. He’s never dreamed this before, but maybe his brain is producing new material based on the events of the past couple of weeks.

“Lou?”

It feels so real. All he can do is nod.

Harry smiles and pulls the duvet over his body. He doesn’t roll over, just stays lying on his back with his hand attached to Louis’. The heat of his body is radiates, warming Louis, the scent of flowers and coconut shampoo suffocating. Louis could never get enough.

He prays that he’s reading the signs correctly as he rolls onto his side and then his belly, disconnecting their hands only to throw his arm over Harry’s torso and place his cheek in the dip where Harry’s arm meets his shoulder. Harry reaches up to comb his fingers through Louis’ hair just the way he likes.

“Thank you,” Louis sobs.

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s what friends do. We take care of each other. It’s my turn now.” He pauses. “’M sorry if I get you sick.”

“I don’t care.”

He know why he's always held onto those words Harry used to whisper against his temple and why they were no help at all when Harry was gone from his life. Harry is his moonlight. He breathes him in and focuses on the sound of Harry’s solid heartbeat, pulsing comfort and warmth and love into Louis until he finally falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Louis wakes to the morning light pouring in through his bedroom window. Lying on his side, he feels the solid warmth of another person against his back for the first time in years. He doesn’t dare move, fearing the moment Harry wakes will be the moment all of this is yanked from his careful hold on it.

He can feel Harry’s soft, slow breathing on the back of his neck, his nose pressed to the back of his head. He’s very glad he washed his hair last night. He wonders if Harry still likes the way he smells, if that’s part of why his face is pressed against Louis’ head. Harry smells as lovely as ever, a bit different with age, but still lovely. He wishes he was facing the other direction so he could watch Harry sleep, but he can’t make himself turn around. He would stay like this forever, never properly looking at him again, if it meant Harry was holding him instead. His arm is draped over Louis’ waist, and when Louis glances at his hand, it becomes pretty obvious that they were holding hands at some point during the night because Harry’s hand is still so close to his own, his fingers reaching toward him. Louis decides to move just this once and slides his hand just far enough down the sheets that Harry’s long fingers slip onto his open, waiting palm. He holds his breath and waits for any sign of wakefulness, but Harry doesn’t budge. His new medication must be working better than the over-the-counter stuff he was taking before.

He closes his tired eyes and focuses on Harry’s fingers twitching in his hand and the warmth and safety of Harry’s broad body against his back, savoring the dream before it inevitably ends. He wonders when Harry must have moved them to this position after Louis had fallen asleep draped across his chest. He feels a twinge of regret when he thinks of Harry’s poor back and fusses himself silently for being so selfish, but he reassures himself that it’s okay, they’re both okay, because Harry had the good sense to make a change before he hurt himself and that change did not include leaving Louis alone in his room to go back to the couch or even moving farther from Louis in his bed. He’s still as close as he could possibly be.

_See? It’s okay. Harry is just like this, he’s touchy. It’s not weird. He doesn’t know that you’re secretly in love with him. It’s just cuddles. And yeah, maybe not everyone cuddles their best mate, but there’s history here, and that makes it okay. Harry and I are different, we always have been. Were even before anything happened when we were kids. It’s okay._

He drifts back to sleep during his internal monologue only to be woken what feels like minutes later to movement against his calves. Louis feigns sleep. If Harry wants to leave and pretend this never happened, Louis can at least make it less awkward.

“Well, you’ve not gotten any better at pretending to be asleep, I see.” Before he can think of a logical excuse, he’s distracted by the feeling of Harry’s lazy morning smile against the back of his neck. “You’ve always been so bad at that.”

Louis feels the panic begin to stir in his chest. This is wildly inappropriate. This is way past the line he decided on pushing. He scrambles out of Harry’s hold only to have his arm caught and his body pulled back onto the bed.

“Why are you freaking out?” Harry asks, mild panic evident in his voice.

“I’m not. Just let me go.”

“Louis, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! It’s not okay, Harry!”

Harry finally gives up Louis’ arm, and when Louis looks back at him on his way out of the bedroom, he sees a look of frustration on his sleepy face. They lock eyes for a brief moment before Louis leaves the room and hears Harry collapse back into the sheets with a groan.

Twenty minutes later, Louis enters his kitchen to find Harry busy with a frying pan.

“Make yourself at home,” he says.  His tone is awkward.

Harry turns around with a smirk. “Are you seriously mad that I’m cooking?” Louis hesitates, and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Are you serious? Why are you being so weird this morning?”

“I don’t…I don’t know.” Louis sighs. He knows he must look as overwhelmed as he feels. “It’s like…hard to know what’s okay and what isn’t. What’s normal. We were never normal. I feel like last night wasn’t. Normal. And it’s making me feel really uncomfortable and like…irritable. So I’m just being confusing and passive-aggressive, and I’m sorry, but it’s just a lot.”

“The cuddling?”

“Don’t be dense.”

Harry fixes him with a stern look, and Louis mumbles an apology for his bitchiness.

“I don’t really see a problem with it. I mean, I cuddle with Liam.”

“Uh…yeah, that’s kind of my point.”

Harry seems totally lost, and Louis knows he has a matching look of confusion on his own face. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not normal or okay to cuddle your ex-…whatever that you just started hanging out with again in the same way that you cuddle your boyfriend. Even if you’re sick. And he’s having nightmares. It’s not okay, Harry.”

If Louis thought that would help, he was wrong because Harry still looks confused but that confusion is now mixed with amusement.

“Liam is not my boyfriend,” he says through a manic smile, obviously trying not to laugh.

“Oh. Well, why did he…” Louis veers off.

“Why did he what?”

Louis racks his brain trying to think of the proof offered to him that Harry and Liam were in a relationship and feels unbelievably stupid when he can’t think of any.

“I just thought…the way Liam talked about you.”

“He’s just like that. He’s a bigger puppy dog than Gracie.” When Louis doesn’t respond, he continues. “Lou, listen. You took care of me all day yesterday when I needed it the most. You brought me soup and walked my dog and drove me to the hospital. You let me stay at your place and gave my roommate a night off from my coughing and complaining. So I thought it was only fair to try and bring you a small amount of comfort when I heard you screaming in your room last night. We’re friends. We don’t like the other to be in pain. That’s normal. At least in my friendships.”

Right. Friends. Because in Harry’s mind, that’s the only option on the table. His lack of a beefy boyfriend doesn’t change that. Harry isn’t keeping a secret, so he isn’t in a constant state of paranoia centered around the question of “what is too much?” He simply does what he wants. Like always. Louis can’t risk that. He has to be on guard so that he doesn’t reveal the secret that could take Harry from him forever.  So he’s just got to get better at this friendship thing.

“Lou?”

Louis nods, and Harry seems content.

“Alright then. You want eggs? Why do you even have eggs?”

“Mum brought them over the other day. Yes, please.”

They sit on the couch and eat their breakfast in silence, the room filled with the sound of forks scraping against plates.

“So are you gonna come watch me play?”

Louis smiles. They’re back on track. “Suppose I could do that.”

“Any requests?”

And just like that, his smile falls from his face. He could think of a few.

“Where’d you go?” Harry eyes him suspiciously.

“Huh?” Louis asks distractedly.

“You zoned out again.”

“Sometimes you say stuff that takes me back, and I get weirdly sentimental.” He forces out the fakest laugh he has ever heard and cringes at the harsh sound. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It happens to me, too. Just because we aren’t going down that path right now doesn’t mean we have to pretend we never happened, Lou. Is that why you’re so jumpy?”

Louis thinks about it, trying to be honest with himself. The number one reason for his strange behavior is, of course, the fact that Harry is ethereal and beautiful and the focus of Louis’ dreams and oh yeah, the love of his life. But outside of that disaster, Louis thinks that Harry is quite right, actually. The nervousness might dissipate if they weren’t constantly dancing around each other, trying not to say anything that might be relevant to the almost two years that they were definitely more than best friends who held hands sometimes.

“I guess. It’s just awkward, yeah?”

Harry chuckles, and Louis feels lighter already. “Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be.”

After a few episodes of  _Friends_ , Harry brings their dishes to the kitchen and runs warm water into the sink, mixing in soap as it rises to cover the dishes. Louis takes advantage of Harry’s hospitality and dashes to his bedroom to change out of his jumper. Harry is like a furnace even from a distance, and he doesn’t want to stink of sweat this early in the day.

He plucks a worn, soft baseball tee from his drawers and a pair of skinnies from his closet, changing quickly and heading back to the living room without even glancing in the mirror.

Ten minutes later, he wishes he would have done just that. Because his tattoo – his Harry tattoo – is clearly visible beneath the sleeve of his shirt. While reaching for the remote only minutes earlier, it had peeked out and taunted Louis with its presence. Harry hadn’t noticed. But now he has to change. Again. And that’s going to seem weird. Is he just always going to have to wear long sleeves around him now? Tell him, “Sorry, Haz, I can only be friends with you in the winter?” He’ll take that really well, Louis is sure of it. How could he be so stupid? It’s not inconspicuous in the slightest. If Harry sees it, he will, without a doubt, know what it is. _Oops._ The first word Harry ever said to him. Long sleeves, it is.

“Cold again, be right back,” he rambles, tossing their shared quilt over onto Harry’s head.

All he can do is laugh when Harry’s words catch up to him on his way to the bedroom. “Oh, no! My beautiful curls!”

His bright laughter is the only sound Louis ever wants to hear.

{~~~}

That night, after Liam shows up and takes Harry home following some awkward small talk at the door, Louis phones an apparently very impatient Niall.

“Well, it’s about bloody time. I’ve been waitin’ a damn millennium.”

“He just left,” Louis says, already feeling the emptiness.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? I knew you two wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of each other!”

“Niall, for God’s sake. Are you ever going to let me finish a sentence without interrupting me with your crazy theories? He has the flu. We spent yesterday in the hospital, he stayed the night at my flat, and he just left with Liam. Who, by the way, is not his boyfriend.”

“Mhm. And where did he sleep, Mr. I’m-So-Pure-And-Innocent?”

_Goddamnit._

“On the couch.”

“For the whole night?”

“…not quite.”

“I knew it!”

“Niall, nothing happened. We just…cuddled.” He winces at the word. It’s impossible to explain. “It wasn’t weird,” he tacks on as a last argument.

“No, you’re right. That’s not weird at all.”

“Niall.”

“Man, you’re really in deep. Just be careful, okay, Lou? Don’t want you breaking your own heart again. All jokes aside, you know I actually care about your dumb arse.”

“You want to prove that and come with me to watch Harry play at Ed’s place again? Like for real this time? He invited me.”

When Niall responds with an enthusiastic “Let’s do it!” Louis smiles and relaxes in the knowledge that he has the absolute best mate in the world.

Now he just needs to think of a few songs to request. It’s time to play the game.

{~~~}

Soon enough, it’s Saturday night, and Louis is as ready as he ever will be. He’s had time to contemplate the many fleeting decisions he’s made over the past couple of weeks regarding Harry. He’s been kind of an idiot. Harry wants to be his friend. He still cares for him. And Louis has finally come to realize that that’s all he needs. He needed his best friend back. Now he’s got him. He’s going to watch him sing. And everything is going to be all right.

As Louis and Niall round the corner and walk into  _Ed’s_ , a spark of excitement and nervousness runs through Louis’ core only to be immediately blanketed by a feeling of calm warmth the moment he spots Harry, sitting on his rickety stool up on the stage. He’s smiling, and Louis can’t help but give him one in return. He shoots him a thumbs up and sneaks over to the bar, sliding a crumpled piece of paper across its smooth surface when Ed comes his way.

“Hey man. Can you make sure this gets into his request pile?”

Ed laughs jovially and says, “He doesn’t do requests. What are you up to, Tomlinson?”

“Just give him the damn note, Sheeran,” Louis says through a mischievous grin.

After goading his old friend into free pints for Niall and himself, he meanders over to a table near the stage, announcing his presence dramatically. He glances up, hoping to catch a smile on Harry’s face. He finds a smile, but it’s not Harry’s.

Liam waves, and Louis is surprised at how happy he is to see him. Since learning his and Harry’s relationship is purely platonic, he’s decided he quite likes Liam Payne. He raises his hand to give him a wave but drops it mid-thought to grab Niall’s arm and pull him toward the stage. The blond shrieks but follows him with as much coordination as he can muster in his shock.

“Liam, meet Niall. Niall, Liam. Haz’s roommate. Niall was mine before I moved back.”

Liam extends his tattooed arm out to the two of them, and Niall clasps his hand eagerly. “Nice to meet you, mate!” Niall exclaims. “You playin’ with Harry tonight?”

“’Fraid so,” he chuckles.

“Well, looks like we’re friends now, so I hope you’re good. Would hate to have to sit in here all the time pretending to enjoy myself while my ears bleed.”

Liam laughs again as that seems to be his usual response style. Louis really does like him. “We wouldn’t want that,” Liam says. “Could just get drunk.”

“Oh, I concur,” Niall says, bringing his glass toward Liam’s microphone in a cheers motion. Liam knocks it against Niall’s glass and steps back toward Harry who is methodically tuning his guitar.

Every time Louis looks at him, he feels peaceful. He can breathe again when he can see curls outshined only by the prettiest green eyes in the universe. He can smile when Harry’s face softens from his serious expression that means he’s focused on a task and which creates a line across his forehead into a sincere smile completed by dimples as deep as the sea.

He is in love with his best friend, and he is okay with that. Harry deserves to have people be in love with him while expecting nothing in return. Louis is only too happy to be one of them.

Harry and Liam greet their little audience and play a few songs. Louis and Niall drink and sing along. When he comes back to the table after running to the loo during a break from their performance, Niall is gleaming with guilty excitement.

“What did you do? You look like you just stole the last biscuit.”

“Always so suspicious!” Niall has an uncanny ability to slur his words and still be incredibly loud simultaneously. It doesn’t lend to his ability to lie, however.

“You’re so full of shite.”

“That I am,” Niall responds with a wink.

Louis is pulled from their bickering when Harry’s voice sounds across the room once more. “We’ve got a new one we’ve never played for you before. You might know it. Sing along.”

He and Liam both start strumming on their guitars, and Niall jumps to his feet. “I fuckin’ love this song! Yes, lads! Woohooooo!”

Louis bursts into laughter, and Harry twists to look at him when he hears it. Liam is forced to sing the first few verses solo when Harry starts laughing on stage. He gathers his composure enough to join Liam in singing the chorus, and when he does, Louis’ laughter falls away, but his smile stays on his face.

“I’ve got high hopes, it takes me back to when we started. High hopes…when you let it go, go out and start again.”

Louis likes it when Harry sings happy songs. He’ll have to tell him that someday.

The song comes to an end, and Harry and Liam engage in some kind of silent conversation on stage, glancing at Louis and Niall the whole time.

“Niall, seriously, what did you do?”

“Louis, I swear, it really wasn’t me, okay? Please don’t murder me in my sleep.”

Before Louis can argue that he won’t make such a promise, Harry says, “I received a request tonight, so as our last song, I’ll see what I can do about that.”

He winks at Louis, and Louis’ insides feel shaky. He’d honestly forgotten about his funny little joke after his fourth or fifth pint. It’s an innocent thing, he doesn’t regret it, but something else is clearly going on.

“We do have a problem, though, Harry,” Liam says robotically, as if he’d rehearsed the words. “I’m afraid that this particular song relies on harmony. We can’t do it just the two of us.”

In that moment, Niall pounces on Louis and pushes him toward the stage where Liam is bending over, waiting to pull him up. Louis goes willingly, having been given no time at all to realize the situation in which he has suddenly found himself so that he might resist.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Harry’s voice booms loudly, “This is Louis. He’s going to help us with this next tune.”

“Bloody hell, I am not!” Louis exclaims into the microphone Liam has just shoved in front of his mouth.

“Don’t worry, everyone. I know him too well.” Harry holds Louis’ gaze, and the air around them goes still. “And if there’s one thing Louis Tomlinson cannot resist, it’s shaking his huge arse to a little Queen.”

He should be embarrassed, but he isn’t. He’s just endeared. He’s having fun. Harry is so fun, and if Louis has the chance to be a part of that, he’s going to take it no matter how humiliating it may be.

Harry covers his mic with his hand and flashes Louis a bright smile. “You ready, you bad bitch?”

Louis’ resounding laughter is drowned out by the beginning chords of the song he had written on that little slip of paper. He should have known how Harry would take his plans and flip them. He’s always been able to do that, to flip Louis’ world upside down and make Louis glad he did.

Liam starts singing and Louis can hear him clearly, but his attention is on the curly-headed boy still laughing. He knows without any communication exactly where he and Harry are supposed to jump in. They haven’t done this in a while, but it’s not hard to remember.

His cue comes, and he sings, “Oh, you’re the best friend that I ever had.” Harry responds with the next line, “I’ve been with you such a long time, you’re my sunshine.” He holds the note and Louis has difficulty getting his next line out with the smile currently splitting his face in half. “I want you to know that my feelings are true, I really love you.” Harry turns from Louis and faces the crowd, waving his arms wildly like Freddie Mercury’s spirit has taken over his body. “Ohhhh, you’re my best friend.” 

The crowd screams and Liam riffs on an electric guitar that has appeared out of nowhere. Harry produces a bottle of water and seconds later sprays water from his mouth like a goddamn rockstar. Everything feels surreal, and all Louis can do is roll with it and finish the song.

When they’ve sung their last lines and Liam has finished making a scene with the instrumental, Louis crosses the stage and throws his arms around Harry’s neck.

“With all that talk about my bum, I thought for sure you were ignoring my request in favor of “Fat Bottomed Girls.”

Louis feels Harry’s arms come up to hug him back, but at the last moment, his right hand slides down and smacks him across the arse. “You love all my talk about your bum.”

Louis is done freaking out when he finds himself in situations like this with Harry. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to just let them happen. He still has a brain. He frees himself from Harry’s grip and tries to ignore the look of pain that flashes across Harry’s face at their new distance.

“Let’s take a walk.”

Harry nods and motions to Liam, asking him to wrap things up. Louis throws back the remaining bit of his drink still sitting on the table and tells Niall to hang out with Liam if he wants, not to wait up.

He walks out of the pub, heart racing and smile bordering on painful. Harry is right behind him, yelling entirely too loudly in the quiet darkness. Louis shushes him, and Harry throws his body forward in response, clinging to Louis as if he were desperate for something only Louis could give him.

“Are you really that pissed? I mean, I saw Ed sneaking you drinks up there, but holy shit, Haz, get it together!”

“I’m not drunk, Lou.” Harry giggles. “I’m happy.”

That’s the best thing Louis has heard in a long, long time.

“Are you happy?” Harry asks, his voice lowered. Harry hasn’t looked at him like this since they were kids. Louis can’t place it, but he thinks it’s something close to hope.

Louis reaches up, standing on tiptoes, and tousles Harry’s hair, bring Harry’s sweet smile back. “Yeah, curly. I’m happy.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Hello! I’m here! The party has arrived!” Louis yells as he waltzes into the quiet café.

Harry looks up from the pastries he’s dusting with powdered sugar and smiles that big, bright, beautiful smile Louis loves so fucking much. “Morning, Lou.”

Louis hops up onto a stool at the counter and waits for Harry to notice his truly amazing mood. He’s busy, but he’ll notice. He always does.

Five minutes, two trays of sweets, and a few hummed songs later, Harry turns and eyes him suspiciously. “You look as if you just got away with the crime of the century.”

“I found a job.”

Harry’s face transforms into a picture of pure joy, and Louis is reminded why he waited to tell Harry before anyone else. “Louis! That’s amazing! Tell me everything!”

“Grade one. Little ones. Just like I wanted.”

“I told you! When will you ever just relax and listen to me?”

“I know, I know.”

Harry’s smile falters just enough for Louis to notice before he asks, “Where?”

Louis reaches out and places his hands atop Harry’s lying on the counter. “Here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The dimples return as if they had never left in the first place, and Louis is very, very proud of himself for making that happen.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, curly man.”

“I’ve never wanted to.”

This happens sometimes. They venture into serious, dangerous terrain without any warning, the past sneaking up to drag them down. Louis is a master of evasion, and Harry has perfected his “this is awkward, let’s move on” expression.

“I’m so happy for you, Lou.” He hesitates, and Louis knows he’s struggling to say something. Or not to. “Even happier you’re staying in Holmes Chapel, if I’m honest. I’d rather you be here, broke and destitute, than anywhere else with your dream job. How selfish is that?”

“You’re so dramatic. I couldn’t leave everyone here. Not again.”

“Right. Your mum. And the girls.”

Harry won’t look at him anymore. Louis doesn’t like that.

“And you, you big dummy. What would I do without my best friend? Just  _not_ sing Queen obnoxiously in our friend’s pub on the weekends? What a boring way to live.”

When Harry still won’t look up, Louis flips Harry’s hands over so that his own hands are now in Harry’s palms. He pushes his fingertips into his soft skin, pressing a gentle made-up melody into his hands, hoping he takes the gift and responds with eye contact or a smile. Anything to show that he’s okay.

“I can’t believe you didn’t scrape off these horrible stickers when you revamped this place.”

He gets the smile he was working for.

“Had to leave a little of your charm in here.”

“It’s so ugly.”

“I love it,” Harry sighs as he tears himself away from the counter and from Louis’ grip. He goes back to getting the shop ready for the morning rush of customers, gliding gracefully between the kitchen and the area behind the counter. Louis feels dizzy watching him. He moves so effortlessly, so quickly and with focused purpose. Just one more difference between this Harry and the one he fell for so many years ago. He’s not that clumsy boy with arms too long for his body anymore. He is, however, just as endearing.

Louis has had time over the past month or so to study the images inked into Harry’s arm every time he has worn short sleeves or rolled longer ones up above his elbows. He doesn’t know the meaning behind a single one, but he understands all of them. He wishes he had a reason to see the ones he knows he’s missing. But the ones he is privy to are gorgeous. And that’s not the only reason why they make breathing difficult for Louis. Most of them seem to be nautical in nature, and Louis has, in addition to the  _oops_  he’s been desperately trying to hide for weeks now, a huge compass in the middle of his forearm. It doesn’t exactly match anything he can see on Harry, but the anchor and the mermaid might not be the only ones he’s got. He quite literally doesn’t know what Harry has up his sleeve. And he’d rather Harry not know before he does if they do happen to have something strangely complementary. He would definitely need time to process something like that before discussing it.

Louis is pulled from his racing thoughts when Harry asks, “When do you start at the school?”

“January.” Harry nods but doesn’t give much indication that he even heard him outside of that. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, I’m just busy. Obviously.”

“You turned a one-eighty sometime between my coming in here and right now, and I have no idea why. Don’t lie to me.”

“Louis, I really am just busy. If you’re going to be pissy, can you come back at a better time and let me get my work done? Please?”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me. Jesus Christ.”

Harry lets out a loud huff of a breath and looks straight into Louis’ eyes for the first time in half an hour. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m very happy for you. I just have a lot going on right now. I open in like ten minutes, and if you haven’t noticed, my pastry chef still isn’t here.”

Louis had felt like they were going to fight until Harry’s last comment stopped that thought in its tracks. He has two options. He can fight with him anyway. He’s got pent up energy now from letting himself get worked up, but he knows that fighting is the last thing he wants to do with Harry. So that’s a bust. Or he can help him. Or try, at least.

“I can help you.”

“No, you can’t. You would burn the place down to the ground if I gave you any freedom at all in my kitchen.”

Louis can’t help but smile at Harry’s words, recycled from Madeleine’s warning so long ago.

“Just give me something easy. I’ll stay out of the way. I just want to help. I don’t like seeing you stressed like this.”

Harry considers him for a full minute before saying, “If you mess up one single tart, I’m kicking you out.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Harry puts Louis to work dropping dollops of fig preserves into pockets of sweet dough and rolling them up to be baked. When Harry comes back after finishing in the front of the restaurant and unlocking the door, he wraps his arms around Louis’ middle and deflates. Louis can’t hug him back with hands covered in sticky juice and sugar, but he remains still, allowing Harry to stay for as long as he wishes. When he straightens up, Louis dabs his finger into the preserves on the table and runs it along the length of Harry’s nose.

“Okay?” he asks, trying to comfort Harry with a small smile.

Harry nods. “Thank you.”

“This is delicious. I might eat all of it before I get it into any more tarts.”

Harry laughs and reaches behind Louis to grab a pinch of flour. He flicks it in Louis’ face and walks out of the kitchen, leaving Louis to sneak more preserves.

{~~~}

Ten hours later, Harry locks the door, turning around and slumping to the dirty ground.

Louis takes off his apron and lays it on the counter. The kitchen is clean. Harry doesn’t know that yet. Louis has been busting his arse for the past two hours while Harry worked diligently behind the counter and spoke to his customers. That’s Harry. He brings light to people when he doesn’t even really have any to spare. Louis loves him so much. He wishes he could do more. He wishes he had that light to give back, to pour back into Harry in surplus.

“You did it, Haz.” Harry nods, exhaustion dripping from his face. “Let’s clean up and go home, yeah?” Louis walks over to Harry’s crumpled form and holds his hands out for him to hold. “Up we go. Come on, we’re almost done.”

Harry comes up much faster than Louis had expected, both of them thrown into a frantic stumble backward, Harry’s weight pushing Louis into a nearby table. Louis’ brain prepares for internal screaming and some type of runaway plan, but before he can move, Harry hugs him, throwing his arms around Louis’ waist and burying his face into Louis’ shoulder. He holds him so tight Louis fears he may start having trouble breathing. He moves his arms to Harry’s shoulders and tries to say everything he can’t communicate through touch alone. Harry doesn’t relent for a length of time that would be uncomfortable with anyone else. Louis extends his fingers and tangles them in Harry’s hair, his curls relaxed from the long day, tendrils hanging past his shoulders. They hold one another for too long, Louis knows. It’s never enough.

“Thank you.”

“I am an excellent hugger.”

“I’m serious. Thank you. I couldn’t have gotten through today without you.”

Louis’ skin feels tight. His mouth feels dry. The hug and now this conversation, it’s too much. They’re getting awfully close to that area that threatens Louis’ mental health. It’s time for jokes.

“You couldn’t get through any day without me.”

“Every single night since you came back, I’ve prayed that I wouldn’t have to again,” Harry says, still holding him tightly. Okay, so he’s not in a joking mood.

“Harry—”

“Louis, I’m not doing this with you right now. Just say ‘you’re welcome’ and move on.”

He hesitates, but he knows Harry means every word. It’s not like he actually gets away with anything when he changes the subject or makes a joke out of a serious conversation. Harry always knows what he’s doing, and Louis is aware of that. But Harry never calls him out. He really is worn down.

“I’m not going to say that.” Harry pulls away and rolls his eyes, and Louis has to make an honest effort not to laugh. “Because it’s not necessary. You don’t have to thank me. It’s what friends do, remember? And honestly, I had a fun day. I kind of felt like I was breaking Madeleine’s rules.”

“I’m the boss now. You’re not as much of a rebel as you like to think.”

Louis raises his hand to his chest in faux offense. “I’m full of surprises, Styles.”

Harry chuckles and pierces Louis with a strange expression. Tired wistfulness, maybe. With a sprinkle of annoyance. Louis wishes he could kiss him, swap the look of discomfort off of that beautiful boy's face with a smile. He should always be smiling.

“That you are, Tomlinson,” Harry says as he turns to walk into the kitchen. “That you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y'all love those flashbacks featuring babies in love, so get ready! I've got something in the works.


	13. Chapter 13

_Louis is twelve years old. He’ll be thirteen in mere hours. He’ll finally be a teenager. That’s when all the good stuff is supposed to happen, right? When you’re a teenager? He’s got his whole life in front of him. He can’t help but feel that familiar annoyance that always comes on this night every year. It’s not like he needs the whole world to drop everything and celebrate him, but it would be nice to not feel overshadowed just once. His little sisters are all in the living room, speculating about the Christmas presents wrapped in shiny paper and waiting under the tree. His mum has the television turned to some kind of caroling concert. All of his friends are away with their families, not here to wish Louis a happy birthday. Well, all except one._

_His new friend Harry is here. Harry is really nice. He probably won’t mind Louis complaining endlessly about how much he hates having a Christmas Eve birthday when he comes over tonight for their sleepover. He’s a good listener. Louis likes him a lot. He never gets annoyed with Louis for being too dramatic when they’re play fighting or singing too loudly when they watch Grease together. Harry is younger, but sometimes Louis doesn’t even notice because of all the fun they have._

_Louis gets to work writing a list of all the activities he wants to do tonight._ Grease _\- obviously. Cookies – not Christmas ones. Presents - he knows Harry got him something, the boy is not very sneaky._

_The doorbell rings and Louis jumps up from his bed and runs to the door, throwing it open._

_“Hey Haz!”_

_“Hey there, Lou Lou! Happy birthday!” cries a short, curly-headed boy with a bright smile. “I’m here for the best sleepover ever with my favorite teenager.”_

_Louis pulls him inside and slams the door closed, mumbling an apology when his mom chastises him for his bad habit._

_“That for me?” Louis points to the blue package in Harry’s hands._

_“Yep, but not until midnight.”_

_Louis smiles, feeling giddy and excited for the first time today. Maybe this birthday won’t be so bad with Harry here. They go to Louis’ bedroom and Harry sits on the edge of the bed while Louis splays out like a starfish._

_“What are we doing tonight? You want to watch a Christmas film?”_

_Well, there goes any hope of things being different this year._

_“No,” he huffs. “I don’t like Christmas.”_

_“You don’t like Christmas?!” Harry practically wails in his ear._

_“No, I don’t like Christmas. I’ve always felt like my birthday didn’t matter because all anyone can talk about on Christmas Eve is Christmas Day, and people are more excited for a fictional fat man with a beard than me.” Louis turns his head to look up at his friend who might not be his friend anymore if he keeps looking at him like he’s going to burst into laughter any second now. “Don’t make fun of me,” he tacks on for good measure._

_“I’m not making fun of you, Lou. I just love Christmas. Makes me kind of sad that you don’t. That’s okay, though. We can do everything in the world tonight that’s not Christmas stuff. Whatever you want, birthday boy.”_

_So they do. They bake cookies and decorate them for Halloween. They watch Louis’ favorite movie and sing with John Travolta until he starts with the kissing girls part, to which they stick their tongues out at the screen and Harry pretends to gag. At midnight, Louis opens his present, a new skateboard Harry’s mum helped him pick out. Louis thinks his mum probably helped, too. Louis hugs him tight, and they climb under Louis’ duvet to go to sleep._

_“Hey, Haz?” Louis whispers in the darkness, his eyes not yet adjusted to the absence of light in his small room._

_“Yeah, Lou?”_

_“You know you can come over any time you want, yeah? If you ever want to have a sleepover, you can just come over. My mum wouldn’t care.”_

_He can’t see Harry’s face, but he thinks he’s probably smiling. He’s always smiling._

_“I never thought I would have a best friend,” he says quietly._

_Louis reaches out to find Harry’s hand under the sheets and squeezes it tightly. “You’ve got one now.”_

_{~~~}_

_Louis will be sixteen in one hour and Harry still isn’t here. He’s getting anxious. He can’t do the birthday thing alone. Okay, well, he has his mum and sisters, but Harry is always here on his birthday. He knows how much Louis despises it. He’s always here to make it better. Always._

_He’s starting to feel irritated actually. Where is he? Did he find someone cooler to hang out with? Did he forget what tomorrow is?_

_He slips into his old trainers and grabs his jacket, shoving his arms into the sleeves as he races toward the front door. Harry better hope Anne grounded him because when he gets over there, Louis is going to unleash Hell._

_“Young man! What exactly do you think you’re doing?”_

_He skids to a stop and turns to see his mother looking furious. “Eh…can I go to Harry’s? He’s supposed to be here already.”_

_Jay eyes him suspiciously for the longest moment of Louis’ life before finally nodding and offering to drive him. “It’s cold and dark, you’re not walking all the way over there this late at night all alone.”_

_Louis huffs and waits to help his mother load the girls into the car. “Mum, come on! We’re gonna be late!” he complains loudly when everyone is finally buckled up._

_“Louis William Tomlinson, sit your bum down right this instant or we won’t be going anywhere.”_

_He sits on his hands, anxiously willing the car to drive just a little faster until they finally pull onto Harry’s road. When the car comes to a stop, he unclicks his seatbelt and kisses his mum on the cheek before hopping out, emergency duffel thrown over his shoulder._

_Before he makes it to Harry’s front door, it opens and Harry steps onto the porch with a mischievous grin splitting his face in two. “About time.”_

_“What are you on about? I’m mad at you.”_

_Harry nods. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I figured. I have a surprise for you, though. Get in here.”_

_Louis kind of wants to throw a fit on the porch rather than immediately let Harry off the hook, like he always does when he smiles at him like that. Louis would let him get away with just about anything, and that is a scary thought. Louis is the one who’s supposed to get away with stuff, not the other way around._

_He slowly follows Harry inside only to be met with his worst nightmare. All he can see is the twinkle of Christmas lights everywhere. A huge Christmas tree taunts him from where it stands threateningly in front of the windows in the living room. Anne and Gemma are singing in the kitchen._

_Louis wants to cry. He doesn’t understand why Harry would do this. He turns abruptly and tries to walk back out into the cold night, but his efforts are thwarted by Harry’s hand on the door, pushing it closed again. Louis is shaking, he can feel himself growing more tense with every second._

_“Harry, why did you do this? You know I don’t like to think about Christmas on my birthday.”_

_He doesn’t say that Harry is the only one he ever counts on to make the day all about him. That Harry is the only one who makes him feel special and important. That would be a weird thing to say to your best friend. That sounds terrible and selfish and just plain awful._

_His frantic thoughts are interrupted by Harry sliding his hand down his arm until their hands are locked together._

_“Louis, don’t you see? I’m not doing this to hurt you. It’s all for you.” Harry reaches up to tuck a wispy piece of fringe behind Louis’ ear. “I thought we could pretend. It can be our new thing so you don’t have to hate Christmas anymore.”_

_Louis feels himself calm down gradually, his hand still squeezing Harry’s much too tightly. Harry never pulls away._

_He doesn’t say much throughout the night. Harry’s family sings to him at midnight, and Harry chases him around the living room screaming that Louis needs his sixteen spankings. They laugh wildly, and Louis finds he doesn’t mind the sparkling lights when they’re reflecting in his favorite green eyes._

_They lie in Harry’s bed after the excitement wears off, Harry running is fingers up and down Louis’ arm like he always does when he’s tired and happy. Louis’ eyes adjusted to the darkness long ago, and the only thing in his eyes since has been the sweet smile of his favorite boy, his cheek pressed into their shared pillow, his eyes glittering in the dark surrounding them._

_“I don’t know how to thank you,” Louis whispers._

_“You don’t have to. I thought you might hate me. Figured it was worth a shot.”_

_“You always make me feel better about everything. No matter what. You can always do it.” The honesty makes his heart beat a little faster, like he’s taking a chance on something._

_Harry doesn’t respond for some time, and Louis would think he had fallen asleep if he couldn’t see his eyes still blinking slowly. Finally, he takes a deep breath and whispers, “Happy birthday, Lou.”_

_That is the first night Louis ever wants to kiss Harry Styles. And he knows it won't be the last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't adore happy boys falling in love?
> 
> I can't say enough how much I love your feedback. Every time I get a comment/kudos notification, I squeal with happiness. Keep 'em coming, I love hearing from you guys.
> 
> It's almost Christmas in this Louis' world! I wonder what Harry has up his sleeve? ;)


	14. Chapter 14

Louis lies on his mum’s couch, his head balanced on her stomach, listening to his siblings bicker while playing a board game on the living room floor. Jay is running her fingers through his hair, sharing stories from her week of work at the hospital. Louis loves her stories, the babies and the happy couples and his mum’s kindness. She is the best person in the world. He watches his sisters and little brother play for a minute or so before closing his eyes, allowing his mum’s words to lull him into a half-sleep.

“Tired, baby? You want to go nap in your room?”

Louis blinks awake and looks up at his mother. “No, I’m okay.”

“You seem okay for the first time in a while, love. You want to talk about it?”

He can’t help the smile that creeps onto his lips. She already knows. But he doesn’t mind her poking around, asking for details.

“Haz and I are…good. It’s really good.”

Jay hesitates, and Louis knows where this conversation is headed. “How good?” she asks quietly.

“Not like that, Mumma.”

“Do you want it to be like that?”

There’s no point in lying. She knows anyway. “Yeah. More than anything.”

“Well, are you going to do anything about it?”

“No,” he shakes his head against her body. “I’ve been thinking through everything for months, you know I have. I can’t risk it. I can’t lose him again.”

“Baby, I understand that, I really do,” she says softly. “But I don’t think that’s possible.”

“He doesn’t love me. Not like that. Not anymore.”

She doesn’t respond, only continues to pet his head, smoothing his hair and calming his nerves.

“I destroyed that a long time ago. He’s never going to love me like that again. It would be a foolish thing to wish for.”

She moves her free hand to gently cup her son’s face, smoothing her thumb over his cheekbone. “Love is always foolish, baby bear.” She smiles, and Louis grips her hand in his, pressing it against his face a touch harder. “How sad this life would be without it.”

{~~~}

Louis does nap, on the couch, the sounds of his family’s happiness guiding him into peaceful dreams. He’s awoken by his mum sometime later, a few hours Louis guesses based on the darkness seeping in through the window.

“Your fool is here,” she says gently, her hand on his back.

He feels warmth on his cheeks and a wild beating in his heart. Why is he here?

He jumps up from the couch and runs to the loo. He hadn’t even heard Harry’s voice, so he surely has time to fix his hair a bit and brush his teeth. After a few quick breathing exercises, he walks out into the living room as nonchalantly as possible.

“Hey,” Harry says. He sounds out of breath. Everyone is looking back-and-forth between the two of them, and Louis doesn’t know what the hell is going on. “Happy birthday, Lou.”

Louis feels lightheaded. “My birthday is tomorrow.”

Harry looks down at his wrist, checking a watch that doesn’t exist. “Yeah, in about three hours. You want to go somewhere with me?”

Louis is confused. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to see Harry or do anything for his birthday besides dinner with his family tomorrow. He stopped doing birthday-related activities when he no longer had Harry to do them with.

He looks down at himself, inspecting his jeans and adjusting the bottom of his jumper. “Do I need to change?”

Harry smiles, dimples and all. “No, you look perfect.”

Louis is momentarily distracted by his mum snorting rather loudly and walking into the kitchen behind Harry. He eventually gathers his thoughts once again and asks, “Where are we going?”

“Like I’m going to tell you that. You know better.” He turns to leave the house, looking back to make sure Louis is following. “Come on.”

Louis gives all of his siblings hugs and kisses before joining Harry and his mother in the kitchen. “Bye, Mum. I’ll uh…I’ll see you tomorrow,” he stutters.

Jay winks at him, and he feels the redness hit his face hard.

“Bye, Jay,” Harry waves, opening the door so that Louis can run through it at full speed.

When Harry has closed the door behind him and caught up to Louis, he catches his hand and stops him from venturing any farther. Louis turns, only glancing at their joined hands for a second before looking up to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Surprise,” Harry says.

“What are we doing?”

“Well, if I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I hate surprises.”

“No, you don’t. Now hush and get in the car.”

Louis obeys, sliding into Harry’s car, nervous excitement running through his veins. The drive is quiet, neither of them saying much of anything. Louis would turn on the radio, but he knows the only thing playing on any of the local stations is Christmas music. No, thank you. It’s a little awkward, but mostly it’s just peaceful. They were always good at silence, just being together in the quiet. It’s different now, but it’s still quite nice.

It isn’t long before Harry turns onto a tiny lane crammed with vehicles and parks the car. “Shall we?” he asks.

They step out into the cold night air, and Louis immediately regrets leaving his coat behind. That is, until Harry steps around the back of the car with two coats draped over his arms.

“I brought a spare.”

Louis takes the puffier one, knowing Harry won’t need it and it was probably the one he brought for him anyway.

“What is this place?”

“For them,” Harry points toward the people walking ahead of them, “it’s a Christmas festival.” Louis sees him sneak a glance at him and hides his smile behind a fake cough. “For us, it’s a Louis festival.”

“I see. And what, pray tell, does a Louis festival offer?”

“Ferris wheel. Hot apple cider. Lots of desserts. There are, of course, a few more Christmas-centric events, but we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. This is for you.”

Louis’ stomach hurts. He nods, his thoughts much too jumbled at the moment to let out of his mouth. They arrive at the border of the festival grounds, a white fence draped with Christmas lights blocking their path except for a small gate through which they enter.

There are people everywhere, laughing and kissing and dancing and sipping steaming hot cider from huge painted steins. Happiness seems contagious here. Louis thinks he quite likes this place. He glances up at Harry to find him smiling so sincerely it makes Louis feel like crying. He loves when Harry is this happy.

They purchase two hot ciders and wander through the crowd sipping from their mugs, the warmth radiating through their bodies. Harry updates Louis on the café, describing a new pastry he’s been working on diligently. He asks him about his sisters and his mum, says he misses them. He lights up with excitement upon remembering a joke he has yet to tell him, laughing wildly at the punchline Louis doesn’t even hear.

Louis will never understand why Harry forgave him. Or why he seems to enjoy spending time with him. He’ll never understand how he could possibly be more in love with this sweet, lovely boy than he ever was before. He thought he loved Harry when he was eighteen. That was love, he’s sure of it. But it’s got nothing on how he feels at twenty-three. Two hours away from twenty-four.

“Hello? Earth to Louis?”

Louis snaps out of his very inappropriate train of thought, nearly tossing the remaining bit of his cider on the ground in his surprise. “Sorry, what?”

“I was just asking if you wanted to go on the Ferris wheel.”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, his heart hammering in his chest. “I really do.”

He doesn’t know how he keeps finding himself in date-like situations with Harry. It’s weird. But he doesn’t really mind. He’s been able to keep his composure so far. And Harry doesn’t even seem to notice.

They stand in line for a few minutes, talking about everything and nothing, before they are being ushered through the gate and onto one of the large seats hanging from the huge wheel. The journey to the top is slow. Louis relaxes into his happiness, the warmth of Harry’s leg against his own a constant comfort.

“Thank you,” Louis almost whispers after several minutes of silence. He looks over at Harry to find that smile he loves so much. Too much.

“You’re welcome.” He pauses, and Louis senses his hesitation. “Are you having fun? I know it’s not incredibly exciting or anything. It’s nice, though, yeah? I came with my mum and Gemma last year, and…” He goes quiet again.

“What is it, Haz?”

“I just…” he stops again, his eyebrows furrowed. “The whole time I was here, I was thinking that you would like it. It’s fun and peaceful at the same time, y’know? It feels like a memory. Like you would miss it even if you had never been.” He laughs nervously. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

Louis looks out before them as their seat finally reaches the top and takes in a shaky breath. “I think I’d miss you even if I’d never met you.”

He can’t make himself look at Harry. He can feel him staring, but he can’t meet his eyes. He’s vulnerable enough right now, thank you very much. Without the added effort of trying not to fall straight into Harry’s eyes, never to be found again.

“You don’t have to miss me. I’m right here,” Harry says.

Harry is both right and wrong. He focuses on his breathing.

“I do, though."

The view is gorgeous. It’s not as gorgeous as the man sitting beside him, but it’s a close second. The sky is clear, the moon strikingly bright against the dark blue of the night. The stars are actually visible this far from the city. It feels cleansing somehow. Like all the pain and fear could be swallowed up by the near emptiness of the sky, the moonlight chasing down new chances and the cleanliness of the view making broken hearts feel whole again.

“It’s so beautiful tonight,” Harry sighs.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment to re-center himself before telling Harry as much truth as he allows himself to speak.

“The moonlight is always beautiful, Haz."


	15. Chapter 15

“Do you want to go watch the tree lighting?” Harry asks as they slowly descend.

If it was anyone else asking, he’d refuse. But he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Harry wouldn’t even be asking if he didn’t know it would be wonderful. Everything he does is wonderful.

He nods, and they leave the Ferris wheel behind to walk toward the center of the festival grounds, wading through a mass of people much too jolly and drunk on alcohol and the Christmas spirit, whatever the hell that is. Louis doesn’t mind it. Not with Harry this close, his hand bumping into Louis’ every few steps. Not with the way Harry can’t seem to stop laughing. Not with the feeling of safety and love he feels when Harry is here, spreading his light, making everything and everyone around him glow.

He can’t keep his gaze off of Harry for more than a few seconds at a time, so he feels it before he sees it. It starts to snow. Soft flurries fall around them, melting on their faces and covering their coats in a thin layer of white fluff.

Harry giggles, his voice reaching that high note that only shows up when he is really, really happy. Louis laughs with him, reaching out to press his thumb into Harry’s left dimple. He can’t help himself. Harry’s laughter falters for the briefest moment, and Louis panics. He jerks his hand back, ready to regret the entire night. But Harry’s hand comes up to meet Louis’ face, and he stops breathing. _What is he doing?_ Then Louis remembers. Harry’s thumb rubs over his cheek, and Louis remembers.

_“You might have a little starlight in you, too, sunshine.”_

_Louis rolls his eyes and tucks a curl behind Harry’s ear not pressed into his pillow. “What are you on about now, curly?”_

_“You’ve got a little constellation on your cheek. Like stars.”_

_He feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “You know you don’t have to do that. I’m already all yours, babe," he says flippantly._

_“Do what?” Harry asks, frowning and pressing his nose against Louis’ in an eskimo kiss._

_“Like…seduce me or whatever," he giggles nervously. "Compliment me all the time.”_

_“Why can’t you just accept that I like you a lot and think you’re cute, you freak?”_

_He slaps Harry’s shoulder, burying his face in between his neck and the pillow, breathing him in and trying to escape from this conversation._

_“Louis, I’m serious. Look at me.” Louis looks up hesitantly. “I mean every word.” His fingers meet his cheek again, and he smooths them over his skin before gently poking each freckle with his index finger. “We’ll call it The Big Spoon. Like The Big Dipper. Get it? ‘Cause you’re the big spoon.”_

_“You are the biggest dork on this planet.”_

_“Yeah, but I’m your dork.”_

_“Oh my God, you’re intolerable," Louis groans, a smile on his face._

_Harry laughs and leans over, guiding Louis onto his back on the bed. He smooths his thumb over Louis’ cheek one more time only to move on to his lips, rubbing his thumb over the seam before removing his hand entirely and replacing it with a pair of soft, warm lips._

_“Haz?” Louis whispers between kisses, alternating between frantic and slow and sleepy. “You want to stay the night?”_

_Harry smiles, his white teeth shining in the darkness. “Can’t leave my big spoon all alone, now can I?”_

He’s suddenly drawn back to the present when Harry’s voice wades into his consciousness. “Where are you tonight?”

Louis really needs to get a grip and stop zoning out every time Harry touches him.

“I’m here with you, silly.”

“You’re really not, though. What are you thinking about so hard? You’re gonna give yourself a headache.”

“Oi! Don’t be rude,” Louis exclaims, the smile on his face betraying his false offense.

Harry smiles softly and looks away, back toward the huge tree ready to be lit in just minutes.

“You want to sit?”

Louis nods, and they lower themselves to the hard ground. He sits as close to Harry as he dares. He wishes he could hold his hand, trace over his veins and knuckles with the tip of his fingers, place them in the spaces between Harry’s own. He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at Harry’s hand for far too long until he lifts it and covers Louis’ hand resting on the ground between them. A month ago, he would have panicked. He would have jerked his hand away, his breath catching in his throat, tears threatening to fall. He glances up to meet Harry’s eyes and sees what he has always seen in them. Comfort. Light. Home. He leans over to place his head in the dip of Harry’s shoulder, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“You start at your new job soon, yeah?”

Louis nods against his shoulder. “Two weeks.”

“Are you excited?”

“Nervous, actually. It’s kind of weird to be like…officially an adult. Right?”

Harry chuckles, “Yeah, I know what you mean. I still feel like I’m sixteen some days.”

“Isn’t it strange how all we wanted then was to be as old as we are now? Singing “Wouldn’t it Be Nice” and daydreaming abo—”

_Fuck. You’re doing it again. Back up, back up, back up._

Before the  _Kill Bill_  sirens can start sounding in his head at a deafening volume, Harry squeezes his hand and sings so softly Louis wouldn’t even be able to hear it if his senses weren’t so finely tuned to Harry’s presence. “We could be married...”

Louis keep his head on Harry’s shoulder so that he can’t see him as he gathers all of his courage and joins in. “And then we’d be happy.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Before Louis can respond, the tree they’ve been staring at to avoid one another’s gazes is finally illuminated. Bright lights flicker to life, climbing up to the top of the tree until the entire thing is shining in the darkness. Harry stands, pulling Louis up with him.

“I have another birthday surprise for you. But we have to go home to get it. Liam’s at his family’s, so I was hoping you wouldn’t mind coming back to mine. I can’t leave Gracie.”

“Okay,” Louis manages to say, finding it difficult to focus on anything other than the fact that Harry’s fingers are still slipped between his own as they walk away from the crowd and toward the edge of the festival, back toward Harry’s car.

“She misses you, y’know?” Harry says with a sly smile.

“I’m so sure, Harry.”

“I’m serious, she’s been crying for weeks. ‘I miss Louis! He gave me the best belly rubs of my life and then he just disappeared! Woe is me!’”

“You are so dumb.”

“Excuse you! I am not dumb. I just know what it’s like to miss you. And Gracie definitely misses you. I can tell.”

Louis slows, pulling Harry back by their hands still joined together, Harry’s warmth radiating despite the chill in the air.

Harry turns and looks nervously at Louis. “What’s wrong?”

“I missed you, too. I need you to know that.”

Harry steps closer and disconnects their hands only to bend down slightly and ease his arms around Louis’ middle, squeezing tightly. “I know.”

Louis raises his arms to let them rest on Harry’s shoulders as he hugs him like he hasn’t seen him in years. Sometimes it still feels like that.

“Come on. Want to make it home before midnight.”

Louis lets Harry step back and follows him as he starts to walk again. “What have you got planned, you tricky minx?”

Harry just winks and breaks into a run, leaving Louis to play catch-up. Like always.


	16. Chapter 16

They pull up to Harry’s street, and Harry parks the car. The ride had been quiet and heavy with some kind of promise Louis still can’t put his finger on. They both open their doors and step out of the vehicle, running to the door to escape the falling snow. They climb the stairs to Harry’s apartment, shedding their coats and some of the awkwardness of the drive here.

Once inside, Harry hangs his coat on a hook by the door and takes Louis’ to do the same. They toe off their shoes and walk into the living room. Louis can’t help but feel like he’s floating somehow.

His apartment is, of course, completely decked out with Christmas decorations. Louis would expect nothing less from the boy who loves Christmas.

He spots his new friend resting on her chair trying to act as if she is unaffected by their presence, her wildly wagging tail betraying her excitement.

“Gracie! Hi baby!” he practically squeals as he rushes to her side. The dog barks once, high and happy. “I heard someone’s been missing me, yeah?” He scratches behind her ear and is repaid with slobbery kisses. “I missed you, too, you big loon. How’s my favorite girl?”

Harry laughs and plops down onto his couch. “I’m getting jealous over here. Would you like a room, lovebirds?”

Louis takes Gracie’s face in his hands, looking into her eyes to calm her. “We’re making your daddy jealous.” She whines and whips her tail around in earnest. “Gracie, go get him!” he exclaims as he releases her from his hold.

She immediately jumps from her chair and runs over to Harry, licking his face before rolling over in an attempt to receive a belly rub.

Louis joins them on the couch and gives Gracie what she wants.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry announces dramatically, lifting his hand from the dog’s belly to motion to the bare tree against the wall. “Will you help me decorate my Christmas tree?”

“Normally I would say no, but it looks pretty sad.”

“Hey! I’ve been busy. Usually Liam helps, but he went home early this year. Pretty sure he’s secretly seeing someone.”

“Well, we’re definitely not finished with that conversation. But yeah, let’s do it.”

“Hold on. I have something for you first.” He reaches over the arm of the couch and pulls out a small box wrapped in blue paper. “Happy birthday, Louis.”

Louis eyes the gift and reaches out to take it from Harry. Gracie grows bored of begging and returns to her chair.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Diva,” Harry says through laughter. “I know, I know,” he says when she yelps at him, “you’re so mistreated. You poor thing.”

Louis feels so happy. It’s so silly, he’s just hanging out with his best friend and his dog. It shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t feel as though all the stars have aligned and he’s found his purpose in this world. It shouldn’t feel like a million clichés adding up to create one perfect moment. But it does. Everything feels right, like he’s where he’s meant to be.

“Can I open it?”

“Mhm. It’s December 24th. Officially. You’re twenty-four, you old man.”

“You hush your mouth.”

“You’re practically senile.”

“Do you really want for me to leave that badly? Because I will. Gracie,” he calls, “tell him to be nice to me or I’ll leave and take you with me, my darling. We deserve better.”

“Don’t you dare involve my dog in your dirty lies.”

They are looking only at each other, knowing smiles on their faces, and Louis needs a distraction. He tears through the paper, unwrapping it from the small box. He’s nervous to discover whatever is inside. He pulls the paper off completely and thumbs at the opening, lifting the top and peering inside to find another smaller box. He takes it out and opens it to find a watch. A beautiful watch with a dark brown, leather band the color of his favorite chocolate curls and a cream-colored face littered with bold roman numerals.

“Harry—”

“Do you like it?”

Louis can feel his eyes bulging out of his skull, his cheeks growing sore with the size of the smile on his face.

“It’s gorgeous. You didn’t have to do this.”

Harry takes the box from Louis and works to remove the watch from its holder.

“Well, you’re starting your first grown-up job soon. You need a grown-up watch. Plus, that’s not all.” Before Louis can interrupt, he’s flipping the watch over to expose the underside.

Louis bursts into uncontrollable laughter. “So grown-up! Oh my God, Harry!” he giggles, clutching his stomach as tears pour from his eyes.

“I thought it would motivate you!” Harry says through his own fit of laughter.

Louis leans in closer to examine the watch still in Harry’s hands. _Bad Bitch_  it says in elegant, loopy cursive. “You are absolutely, positively, too much. I’m going to be working with children, you filthy boy.”

“They don’t have to know,” Harry murmurs suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows, as he places the watch on Louis’ wrist, slipping the band through its loop. His warm fingers linger on Louis’ wrist, and Louis feels it again. That feeling he had in the car. Like he’ss waiting for something that he can’t name.

“Thank you,” he exhales shakily when Harry finally pulls away. “Really, I love it.”

“You’re going to be amazing, Lou. You don’t have to be nervous. Those kids are going to love you. You’re going to be so great, I know it.”

Louis nods and looks down at the watch secured on his wrist, smoothing his thumb over the glass gently. “Thanks, Haz,” he whispers.

“Come on, let’s watch a film. I went to the store and bought snacks and everything for hot cocoa.” He hops up from the couch and opens a drawer below his TV. “Pick your poison. Anything you want, birthday boy.”

“What about your tree?”

“It can wait. What time are you going over to Jay’s tomorrow? We can do it in the morning if you want to help me before you leave for your birthday lunch.”

Louis blinks, confusion limiting his ability to speak. “Oh…uh. I don’t know. I was planning…am I staying over? We didn’t discuss a time because I thought I’d be sleeping there tonight.”

Harry’s face turns the exact shade of bright red as the poinsettias sitting on his fireplace mantle. “Oh…well, it doesn’t matter. It’s whatever you want. I just figured because it’s so late…” he trails off, looking back and forth between Louis and whatever else is so captivating on the other side of his living room.

“Okay, yeah. I can do that. Might fall asleep during our movie night anyway.”

Harry nods and dashes into his kitchen. _That was weird_ , Louis thinks as he saunters over to the drawer filled with movie cases.

“You’re so old school, you know that? You say I’m old, but you’re the one who still has cassettes in here.”

“They're classics, Lewis. You're not going to make me feel bad for having good taste. Just pick a film, old man. It’s way past your bedtime already.”

Louis runs his eyes over the options and settles on something Harry would never expect. When he comes back from the kitchen, mugs in hand, he stills upon seeing the lit screen.

“This mean old Grinch is warming up to Christmas films. Who would have ever imagined?”

Harry places both mugs on the coffee table and unfolds the quilt draped across the back of the couch. “ _It’s a Wonderful Life_  is kind of a big first step, but if you think you’re ready. I trust you. You want to share or do you want your own?”

This is one of those moments that Louis can never decide if he loves or despises. Harry enjoys his company. He feels comfortable enough to share a blanket while watching a film together. And it’s wonderful, to feel this close to him again. But he hates it because he always wants more. He doesn’t want to share the quilt. He wants to be warmed by Harry, by the heat of his skin. He wants to lie on top of him and feel Harry’s fingers ghosting down the length of his spine like they used to do when they were only barely awake on those late nights. He wants more. He wants what he can’t have.

“I can share. As long as you don’t steal the whole thing the second you get sleepy.”

Harry levels him with the exact look he knew his comment would elicit. “As if  _I’m_  the blanket thief! I can’t believe you have the nerve to even say that. You are so full of it.”

Louis reaches up and pulls one side of the quilt from Harry’s grasp. “Alright, alright. Sit down. We’ve got a Christmas film to watch.”

Fifteen minutes into the movie, Louis discovers two things. Jimmy Stewart is a  _dream_. And this movie is definitely going to make him cry. They both finish their hot cocoa, and Harry beams with pride when Louis tells him it’s the best he’s ever had. The late hour catches up to them, and they gradually slide down onto the couch, their heads on opposite sides and their knees knocking in the center.

He tries to focus all of his concentration on the film rather than the way Harry is starting to quietly snore on the other side of the couch. Louis smiles despite himself, memories of Harry falling asleep at school and on road trips and everywhere else coming to him in Harry’s darkened living room. He looks over and sees his face illuminated by the light of the television, his skin smooth and pale, his lips puffy and perfectly pink. Louis has always loved the way his eyelashes move in his sleep.

His attention is recaptured by the film when the two young lovers begin singing in horribly off-key voices. It’s sweet. Louis imagines Harry probably loves this part. He considers waking him before he is hit with George Bailey’s next words as if they were stones being hurled at him.

“What do you want, Mary? Do you want the moon? If you want it, I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down for you. Hey, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.”

Louis can feel the heavy tears gathering in his eyes, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. He wants to sit up, but he can’t wake Harry. Not when he’s losing it like this. He watches the woman on the screen smile the way he wishes he could make Harry smile.

“Then you can swallow it, and it’ll all dissolve, see,” the man says in his Hollywood drawl, “and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair…”

The tears finally fall. This boy who shines like the moon, moonbeams shooting out of his fingertips and his lovely, bright eyes and the curls framing his perfect face is right here. Louis found him. That’s supposed to be the hard part. But somewhere along the way, he made a mistake and everything got messed up. 

 _He’ll never be yours. You have to stop this_ , Louis scolds himself silently.

He thumbs the watch still sitting on his wrist and wipes the tears from his cheeks, those that haven't made their way to his lips, tasting of salt and pain. He feels exhaustion covering him like the quilt that smells like Harry and has one last thought before succumbing to sleep.

He’ll always love that boy who shines with the light of the moon. Even if he never loves him back.


	17. Chapter 17

Louis wakes to the sensation of weightlessness. His stomach swoops, and he feels his legs hanging from somewhere that is decidedly not the couch. He startles, kicking his legs out, the fear of falling overtaking all of his confused senses.

“Woah. Lou. Lou, babe. It’s just me. Hey, you’re okay.”

He wills his heart to calm down, his brain still somewhere in a half sort of sleep. Upon discovering that he is, in fact, safe and not in the grips of certain doom, he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, relaxing in his arms. He deliriously contemplates how strong he is now, how strong he would have to be to hold him like this, to keep from dropping him as he had jerked around in his arms moments earlier. This is wrong, but he’s too tired to give it up. Harry is holding him tightly against his body, and Louis can feel his warmth and the beat of his heart through his shirt. It seems a little fast, but then again, he is holding the weight of another human being. Louis lowers an arm and presses his palm against Harry’s chest. He suddenly has a strange desire to be able to reach through his chest and burrow himself inside. Yeah, he’s definitely not totally awake. He feels dizzy, like he can’t catch his breath. When did Harry wake up? Why is he holding him? What the hell is happening?

As if he heard him, or maybe he did – Louis can’t be completely sure what he’s thinking and what he’s saying aloud – Harry lowers his arms and Louis’ back hits a soft surface he’s pretty sure is Harry’s bed. “Just wanted to move you somewhere more comfortable. ‘M pretty sure you were having another nightmare.”

He moves to leave, and Louis’ whole body reacts violently to the sudden distance. “No!” Harry glances back at him, a confused expression distorting his angelic features. “Please stay,” Louis whimpers.

“Lou—”

“Harry, please don’t go,” he whines pathetically. He’s too out of it to care how sad this is.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Lou.”

He’s about to do something absolutely deplorable. He doesn’t remember having a nightmare. It is very possible that he did, especially if Harry noticed something was wrong and brought him to bed. But he doesn’t remember it. And that’s what makes this so messed up.

“It was so bad, Harry,” he whispers.

He doesn’t have to fake the tears, those are real. The second he realized Harry was going to leave him alone in this room, they sprang from his eyes unbridled. He brings his hand out from under the duvet Harry had pulled over him after lowering him onto the bed, gripping Harry’s arm.

“Stay,” he pleads.

Harry pulls his arm from Louis’ grip, and Louis’ heart sinks. This is evidently visible because Harry chuckles gently and says, “I’m not going anywhere. Scoot over.”

Louis feels guilty but the relief is stronger. Harry lies down on his side and drapes his arm over Louis’ tummy.

“Well, aren’t you going to turn over? Would make this a little easier.”

Louis looks up, searching for his eyes in the darkness. “I’m the big spoon.”

He doesn’t think Harry is going to respond, he stays quiet for so long. But finally, he pulls Louis a touch closer, encouraging him once again to lie on his side. Harry’s body is solid and strong and warm against his back, and the tears keep falling.

This is always going to hurt, isn’t it? It’s never going to end. It’s never going to get easier.

_What are you going to do when he meets someone? When he gets married? Has children? You won’t be allowed to do this then. You shouldn’t even be doing it now._

He has almost forgotten his comment about being the big spoon until Harry presses his nose against the back of his neck and breaths him in, whispering so quietly Louis isn’t sure he doesn’t just imagine it. “You don’t always have to be.”

Louis can’t be sure, but he thinks he means that in more ways than one.

{~~~}

The next time Louis wakes, he is still lying in bed, Harry pressed against him, no space left between their bodies. His shirt has been pushed up his stomach, and he can feel Harry’s sweat sticky skin slowly moving against his own sweaty back.

The room is bright. Harry must not have curtains. He always liked waking up to the sunlight. “Love waking up to the sunshine,” he used to say against Louis’ lips after he would complain about the brightness. “My sunshine.” Louis’ bitching always stopped when Harry would kiss him back to sleep.

Harry is still sleeping, and he’s…moving. Rhythmically. Against Louis’ arse. _Fuck_.

“Um…Harry.” He reaches behind himself to poke at Harry’s ribs. Nothing. Well, not nothing. He’s still…grinding. “Haz, wake up,” he says louder. He still doesn’t stop, doesn’t seem to be hearing Louis at all. He just keeps moving, letting out sounds Louis can only describe as absolutely sinful. “Harry!” he yells in a panic.

Harry jolts awake and Louis no longer feels his unsteady breathing against his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry blurts out. “Louis…shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, just stop humping me. I’m still sleeping,” Louis says dryly, trying not to let his fear show.

Harry laughs nervously and moves away from him, tossing the duvet over Louis’ body as he climbs out of the bed. He bends over awkwardly, clearly trying to hide the situation happening in his joggers. “Sorry…I’ll just…I uh…I gotta pee.”

Louis bursts into laughter before Harry can even exit the room.

“Jesus, man!” he screams loud enough for Harry to hear him from the loo. “Give a guy a minute or two to wake up first!”

“I hate you! Get out of my apartment!” Harry yells from across the hall.

“No, you don’t! And I will do no such thing until I have been served a proper birthday breakfast, thank you very much! You can’t kick me out like some common whore!”

“Eh…Lou?! Can you please stop talking to me for just one minute?!” Harry shrieks, his voice rising a few octaves.

And okay…that’s not exactly where he thought the conversation was going.

Oh. _Oh._ Harry’s… _no_. Holy God, this is fucking weird. But also hysterical. This is a golden opportunity, and if for once it’s  _Harry_  who is inappropriately hard in  _Louis’_  presence, he’s going to bloody well enjoy it.

“Whatcha doin’ in there, Hazzah?”

“Louis, I swear to God. Shut up right now!”

“That’s no way to treat your best mate on his birthday, y’know? I should just leave right now, I don’t deserve to be treated this way on my special day.”

Harry doesn’t respond, and Louis’ skin bursts into flames. At least that’s what it feels like. Because he’s like ninety-nine percent sure Harry just came in the bathroom three meters away.

His brain erupts into a symphony of white noise, drowning out any thoughts that aren’t about Harry’s lips and thighs and hands and his fucking cock and distracting him from his own that has been steadily begging for his attention since he woke up to Harry grinding against him in his sleep. He stares blankly at the wall, panic in every brain cell as he covers his own lower half to hide his obvious arousal, until Harry finally decides to once again grace him with his presence, humiliation seeping from every pore.

“Eh…hey,” he says, scratching the back of his head aimlessly. “Sorry…sorry about that. I was dreaming, and I got carried away. I swear, I didn’t even realize what I was doing.”

“Harry, it’s okay.”

“I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, and it’s like—”

“Harry,” he waves his hand in the air. “Hello, Harry, hey. It’s okay. Can we please stop talking about it?” he asks with wide eyes and a dramatically toothy smile. He feels caught somewhere between hysterical fear and hilarious amusement.

Harry drops his arm and slumps against the door frame. He smiles, and Louis mirrors him.

“Yeah. What would you like for breakfast, birthday boy?”

“I was just kidding,” Louis chuckles. “You don’t really have to cook me breakfast.”

“How about this? I make a fry-up and you help me decorate my Christmas tree like you promised last night. Deal?”

Louis nods and clambers out of the bed. After stopping off in the loo to do his business and splash his face with cold water, he joins Harry in the kitchen to find him already cooking.

“Good morning, by the way,” he chirps as he opens the refrigerator and grabs the milk.

“Good morning,” Harry turns to smile at him. “Happy birthday.”

“How many times are you going to tell me that today? Like if you had to guess? Just so I can prepare.”

“Well, now I’m never saying it ever again. You need to check your attitude.”

Louis laughs and jumps up to sit on the kitchen counter. “So pissy in the morning. Horny, too, apparently.”

Harry charges at him with a spatula, scrambled eggs flying toward him. He leaps from the counter, his full glass of milk crashing to the floor below and spilling everywhere.

“No! Harry! Stop!” he screams, running into the living room. He hides behind Gracie who has woken up eager to join in on the fun, barking and running in circles. “Gracie, protect me! Shield me from this mad man!” he screams as he ducks behind her gigantic body and tries to hold her still.

“It’s no use,” Harry says gleefully. “Surrender now, and I will show you mercy!”

“Never!” He releases Gracie and runs toward Harry’s bedroom only to trip over his own feet and fall to the ground outside the door. Harry is running so closely behind him that he can’t stop in time and trips over Louis’ body. He comes crashing down on top of him, knocking the breath out of both of them. The apartment is loud with their breathless laughter and the dog’s excited barking and the sound of the eggs burning in the kitchen.

Harry’s eyes are piercing his own, and Louis’s mind travels to that day in the café, the first time he ever kissed this beautiful boy. He was sixteen. Harry was fourteen. They were too young. But it was real. They were in love. Even if neither of them ever said the words.

His eyes are so green, bright and clear and full of joy. And then they’re too close to see anymore, Harry’s face blurring as Louis’ eyes cross at their proximity. And then Harry’s lips touch his own. It’s so light and so brief that Louis isn’t sure it can even be called a kiss, but his head is swimming and his heart is racing, and he closes his eyes, overwhelmed, for just a moment before Harry’s weight is suddenly gone. He opens his eyes and Harry is standing above him, a frantic expression on his face, still focused entirely on Louis. He turns and hurries to the kitchen, and Louis hears the sound of a frying pan hitting the sink and then the unmistakable sound of the fire alarm beeping loudly from above the stove.

“Shit!” Harry yells, his shouting only barely covered by the screeching of the alarm.

Louis is stuck to the floor, frozen in time. He hasn’t taken a breath in a decade, he’s sure of it.

He scrapes what is left of himself off of the floor and somehow manages to collapse on the couch so as not to appear completely ridiculous when Harry eventually returns. His hands are shaking and he feels like he needs to throw up and Harry isn’t in here. The nausea only gets worse when he realizes the only person he wants to talk about this with is the one person he can’t. Why isn’t Harry in here? Oh right, he’s putting out a fire. The fire that started when he was kissing Louis. Before he jumped off of him like he was the one burning red hot.

Harry hesitantly steps into the living room, and Louis spots a black substance smeared across his cheek. They really did almost burn the place down.

They lock eyes, and all Louis wants to do is look away. But he can’t. He can’t make himself look anywhere but at Harry. Who looks completely frazzled. And this is exactly what Louis has been trying to avoid for months. He chastises himself for letting it happen. This is bloody exhausting.

“Harry—”

“So the tree? The Christmas tree?” Harry says frantically. “Want to decorate it? I’ve got uh…those things. You know? The uh…the round things…ornaments! I have ornaments!”

Louis can feel his eye start to twitch. His brain is screaming a mantra of  _Too much! Too much! Get out! Get out!_

“Um…I’m actually pretty hungry. I think I might just go to me mum’s?” He stands up, willing his knees not to knock together spastically. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, y’know?!” he says in the weirdest, highest voice he’s ever heard come out of his mouth. He rushes past Harry and grabs his shoes, aiming for the front door, every cell of his body pleading for escape. He turns the doorknob and without turning back shouts, “Okay, bye!”

He runs down the stairs and out the door and immediately heads for his mum’s house. He feels drunk. He can’t really see straight and his damn eye is still twitching. He’s nauseated, and every nerve inside of him is rattling against his bones. Nothing makes sense. He just has to get to his mum and things will make sense again. She’ll know what to do.

And she’ll be very proud of him. Because he has definitely, without a doubt, been a complete and utter fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be on the lookout for another ship on the horizon. I had to do something special for my beautiful bi daughter, Princess Megara, who deserves the world.


	18. Chapter 18

“Mum!” Louis yells as he bursts through the door of his family’s home.

“Louis, what are you doing?” Jay asks with a look of annoyance on her face.

Louis’ heart sinks. “What?” he asks, hurt and confusion in his voice.

“Get your bum outside right this second before your sisters know you’re here. They wanted to surprise you. You know better, they do every year.”

“But Mum, I need to talk—”

“Go outside. I’ll be right behind you, love.”

As he walks out the door he ran through mere seconds ago and closes it softly, he hears his mother calling out to Dan and the girls, telling them she just has to run out for a few minutes before Louis is supposed to be here. His stepdad is home today, off from work and probably covered in glitter by now. Louis is sure he has a similar fate.

Jay steps outside and opens her arms, expecting a hug. “Happy birthday, baby,” she says sweetly. When Louis can’t manage to force his body to move toward her, her eyebrows pinch together and she comes closer to take both of his hands in hers.

“You okay? You’re as pale as a ghost. What happened?”

He still hasn’t been able to get back control of his breathing and his palms are sweaty against his mother’s and he can tell through the haze that he’s shaking. He’s really close to having a panic attack.

“Louis, I need you to just breathe and talk to me, love. Come on, what’s wrong?”

He looks into his mum’s beautiful, kind eyes and feels himself calm down just enough to answer her. “He kissed me…” The second the words leave his mouth, the shock of hearing them out loud sends another jolt of panic down his spine, his knees buckling momentarily.

Jay’s eyes flick between his quickly as she holds him up, and she purses her lips. “Okay…why are you upset about that?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “You sound like Niall.” When she gives him a look that says she won’t allow jokes, he answers honestly. “I don’t know.”

She doesn’t respond, so Louis continues after a short, slightly uncomfortable silence, disconnecting their hands and dropping his head to rub his hands over his face. “We were playing around and it just happened. I don’t know. Last night was amazing, Mum. He took me to a Christmas festival and then I stayed over and he just…he carried me to bed, Mum. I woke up in his arms. And he stayed with me, held me all night. It was almost like it used to be. And then this morning we were goofing off and he fell on me and he kissed me. Well, kind of. And then the fire alarm went off in the kitchen and he jumped off of me like I had hurt him. He looked terrified. I hated it. I never want him to look at me like that ever, ever again.”

He looks up to find a soft, barely-there smile on his mum’s face. She waits.

“I feel like no matter what I do, what I choose, I always hurt him. I can’t keep doing this.” Finally, she wraps him in a tight hug, holding him as if she will never let go. “I’m just so tired, Mumma,” he sobs. “I’m in love with him.”

“I know, baby bear,” she whispers as she smooths the hair on the back of his head. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” She lets him deposit snot onto her shoulder for another minute or two before pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. “We can talk about this tonight, but right now you have to pull yourself together.”

Louis chuckles, a few final tears jumping from his eyes. “I know. Just give me a few minutes.” He wipes his wet face with the sleeve of his jumper. “Get the girls ready, tell them I’m on my way.” Jay hesitates, and Louis laughs a little louder. “I’m fine, just go! I’m ready to be spoiled. Bring it on.”

She smiles and presses a soft kiss to his cold cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She walks inside and Louis turns around and walks back down the street in order to actually have somewhere to come from. He needs to collect himself a bit more anyway before he returns to his family. The girls don’t need to see him like this, a total disaster of a broken human being.

He sits down on the sidewalk, wishing he had a cigarette. He wraps his arms around his bent knees and lays his head down. As soon as he starts to think that he’s ready, he hears it. Hears him.

“Lou?”

His entire body freezes at the sound of Harry’s voice, and he doesn’t move from his position. He thinks maybe he can just pretend he’s not there and he’ll go away, maybe if he tries hard enough to hide his face between his legs, Harry won’t see him.

It doesn’t work.

“Louis, I know you can hear me. Please don’t do this.”

Louis sighs exhaustedly and looks up at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

They’re just staring at one another in silence, and Louis wants nothing more than to run as far away as possible.

“Why’d you leave like that?” Harry asks cautiously.

 _You know damn good and well why I left_ , he thinks. But he doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at his favorite boy, trying not to be quite as obvious as his thoughts.

“Louis, I’m sorry. This morning was weird, and I’m sorry. Please just talk to me.”

“You don’t have to apologize, you did nothing wrong.”

“Well, obviously that’s not true or you wouldn’t have run out of my apartment like your arse was on fire to come sit here on the ground outside of your mum’s house.”

Louis huffs out a breath and looks down at the ground, focusing on a triangular rock as intently as he can manage. “Can you please not get an attitude with me? I really can’t deal with that right now.”

“For God’s sake, Louis, why are you so upset? You’re so like…volatile lately. Ever since you came home. What is up with you? You’re so hot and cold all the damn time, I can’t ever even keep up with you.”

_Because I’m so in love with your stupid, beautiful face and your stupid, lovely curls and your stupid, wonderful heart that I can’t think straight when I’m around you and I don’t feel whole when you’re gone. Because all I can ever think about is how badly I want to kiss you and hold you and make love to you and never let you out of my sight ever again. Because everything in this town reminds me of you and the worst mistake I have ever made, and I wish I knew how to fix it, but I don’t._

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he settles on.

“Fix what?”

“Just…” he shakes his head. “Just everything, Harry. Us.” He looks up again to find Harry’s face twisted into an expression of total confusion. “Why are you here?”

Harry barks out a cold laugh. “No reason, I’ll go. Just wanted to apologize for this morning. Happy birthday,” he mumbles in obvious irritation as he turns on his heel and begins walking back in the direction of his apartment.

Louis watches him leave, the wind blowing his long hair up around his head. He wants to run after him, let the wind carry him faster until he’s close enough to reach for Harry’s hand.

He wants Harry to have kissed him for real. Because he wanted to. And without immediately regretting it. Thinking about the look of pure terror on Harry’s face this morning causes another quick round of nausea before he picks himself up and returns to his mum’s house.

He’ll deal with it later. It’s his birthday, and he’s going to spend it with his family. He reminisces on all of the past surprises from his little sisters and smiles as he knocks on the door. He has to give them at least a little warning. Without waiting for someone to come to the door, he opens it and walks in. “Hello, family!” he yells from the kitchen. He braces himself as he walks toward the living room as that is always the moment he receives loud screams of excitement and attack hugs and homemade signs and birthday presents hurled at his balls and, once, a cake to the face.

“Happy birthday, Louis!” they shout upon jumping up from various areas of the living room they had chosen for their hiding spots.

Nothing is thrown at his face, and the hugging is kept to a manageable level. Louis doesn’t have a single doubt that the love of his family could heal any wound. When he looks up and finds Dan and his mum watching him with the kids, he smiles and sends his mum a little thank you. He knows she gets it when he sees her eyes sparkling back at him.

“We love you, big brother. Happy birthday,” Lottie says from below Louis’ arm, Fiz under his other.

“You okay, Lou?” Fiz asks knowingly. She’s always been so astute.

“Yeah,” he breathes. He turns to either side and kisses both of his eldest sisters on their cheeks, prompting them to burst into giggles. “I am now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday, so I'm flipping the script and giving all of you a present!  
> The fact that this is a birthday-ish chapter is totally coincidental haha.  
> Hope you guys enjoy! Please keep the comments coming!! I LOVE THEM!!


	19. Chapter 19

Louis wakes on Christmas morning to a pounding headache and a mouth tasting stale from the excessive amount of red wine he and his mum managed to go through the night before. Dan had sensed Louis’ need to have her to himself, enlisting help from Lottie and Fiz to put the younger kids to sleep and leaving them alone in the kitchen. With too much wine.

He smacks his lips together and runs his right foot down his left leg, stretching out his muscles. He reaches his arms over his head just long enough to get a good stretch on them as well and immediately covers himself again with the duvet, searching for warmth. At least drunk Louis had the good sense to come to bed.

After allowing himself a few minutes for self-pity, he slips out of bed, hissing when his feet touch the cold ground. He slips on a pair of thick, wool socks and attempts to walk down the hallway and into the living room in a straight line.

Jay and Dan are sitting on the couch, watching Louis’ siblings open their Christmas gifts. They look up, Dan offering a soft smile and a cheery “Happy Christmas, Lou,” and his mum grimacing while blowing him a kiss.

He plops down next to her and lays his head on her shoulder, curling up to her warmth. “Happy Christmas to you two, as well. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“We just sat down, love. I thought you’d like to sleep a bit longer. You had a busy day yesterday.” She places her hand softly on his thigh, rubbing her thumb back and forth gently across the material of his joggers. “Besides your obvious hangover, how are you feeling?”

“Do I look that bad?” he asks through a chuckle.

“No, you’re as handsome as ever, my love. I just know you can’t be much better off than I am right now.”

“I’m so good at this grown-up thing.”

“I’ll tell you a secret. No one is. We’re all just pretending.”

Concerned that he may fall asleep again on the couch, Louis kisses his mum on the cheek and stands, only taking a quick detour to ask for Christmas hugs from all of his siblings before venturing into the loo to try to get his day started properly.

He knows what he needs to do, what he wants to do. He just has to gather the courage to actually go through with it.

{~~~}

_“Harry was outside,” Louis slurs as he pours himself and his mum their fifth and fourth glasses of wine, respectively._

_“What? When?”_

_“This morning.”_

_“Why?”_

_“You’re drunk,” he giggles. “All you can say is “w” words.”_

_Jay laughs out loud, and Louis shushes her with a finger pressed to his lips. “You’re going to wake your children, you hooligan. What would your husband say?”_

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says through a smile, her laughter fading. “Okay, wait…so Harry was here?”_

_“Mhm.”_

_“He followed you?”_

_“Well, he’s not a stalker, Mum.”_

_“You know that’s not what I meant. I’m still confused.”_

_“You really can’t hold your alcohol.”_

_“It’s not because of the alcohol, I’m confused because I don’t understand why your response to being kissed by the boy you’re in love with was to run away.”_

_“It’s not that simple, and you know it.”_

_“You’ve always done this. You make things more difficult than they have to be.”_

_“You’re making me feel like shit.”_

_Jay nods her head once and smacks her stained lips. “Good.”_

_“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks in offense._

_“You have to stop doing this, love.”_

_“And what exactly am I doing, mother?” Louis can feel himself getting angry. He doesn’t know how to handle that when it’s directed at his mum._

_“Don’t you dare catch an attitude with me, young man.”_

_He deflates and lays his chest on the kitchen island, resting his arms above his hand, his cheek pressed to the cool surface. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into the granite._

_Jay abruptly hops off of her stool and walks across the room. Louis picks his head up weakly in time to see her turn on the speaker sitting on the counter. After fiddling with her phone for only a few seconds, she sets it on the counter and steps closer to Louis. She runs her hand down his back as the first notes of their song play softly from the speaker._

_He straightens up and takes her hand in his, holding it up beside them, placing his other on the small of her back. They sway to the music as James Taylor croons about how sweet his love is._

_“You’re never going to have a chance if you don’t try.”_

_“I’m so scared,” he breathes over her shoulder._

_“Honey, I’m not telling you that you have to go find him tonight and declare your eternal love. I’m telling you that you have to start somewhere. You have to let go of the fear that brings you here every time you make any kind of progress. He’s your best friend. Just be with him.”_

_Louis takes an audible breath in preparation to interject, but she doesn’t let him._

_“I know it hurts, baby. I know that. I see it in your eyes when you’re drinking your tea at my kitchen table. I see it in the way you stare off into space and start smiling at nothing just because you’re thinking of him. I see it when you bring him up nearly every chance you get. I know it hurts, it’s a deep kind of hurt when you want something you can’t have. When the one person you feel you can’t breathe without is so close but just out of reach.”_

_Louis feels the tears start to leak from his eyes as his mum’s fingers dance in the short hair grazing his neck. She continues,“But you have a chance, Louis. You can’t see it because you’re so blinded by your own fear and your own pain. But he loves you, baby. He’s already settled back into his role of taking care of you, for goodness’ sake.”_

_Louis can’t help the smile that blooms at that. Harry has always been that way. He takes care of people. It’s one of the million reasons why Louis gave him his heart so long ago and never asked for it back._

_“I’m not going to stand here and promise you that the two of you are going to get married and give me grandbabies and grow old together. I don’t know what will happen. But I_ can _promise you that you will never get that particular happy ending if you never even allow yourself to just be with him and let life happen. You keep saying that he could never possibly love you like that again, but the only way to make that an absolute truth is by never even giving him the chance.”_

_Louis takes a step back and lifts his hand holding his mum’s above their heads. She twirls once, her eyes sparkling with joy and so much love. She places her other hand on his face, and he leans into her comfort._

_“What if I lose him?”_

_She considers him briefly and pulls away to pick up her wine glass again, bringing it to her lips. She drains the remaining liquid before saying in a soft voice, “We don’t belong to people forever.”_

_“Then why risk it?”_

_Jay sighs and places her glass back on the counter, her plump lips stained a deep red. “Isn’t it worth it?”_

_Yeah, Louis decides. He really is._


	20. Chapter 20

Standing in front of Harry’s door, Louis can’t control the nerves he managed to ignore during the walk here. He’s been standing here in a catatonic state for way too long, not able to move his arms in a way that would result in the buzzer being pressed. He pulls a gust of cold air into his lungs and presses the button, knocking a few times as well for good measure. As he waits, he brings the wrapped gift he is holding behind his back so that Harry won’t see it immediately.

The door swings open, and Louis’ heart does that loop-de-loop thing it does every time he looks at Harry. He’s so beautiful. He’s always been beautiful. But the tattoos and the long hair and the muscles don’t hurt. Well, they sort of hurt Louis.

“Hi,” Louis squeaks upon realizing they’ve been staring at one another for nearly a minute and Harry still hasn’t spoken.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Louis winces and shifts around uncomfortably. He sounds pissed. “Can I please come in?”

It takes Harry awhile to answer, and Louis hates himself. Harry has to stand here and actually take time to decide if he wants Louis in his apartment, and it’s all his fault. Finally he sighs and says, “Sure, but I have to leave soon. So…just for a bit.”

Good enough. He’ll just have to be efficient.

He follows Harry inside, wishing he’d look at him just once on the way up to his apartment. When they’re inside and Harry has closed the door, Louis presents the wrapped box he’s been hiding not-so-cleverly. Harry stills when he turns and sees it.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” He doesn’t say anything or move to take it from Louis’ hands, so Louis’ going to talk until that changes. “I’m sorry. For yesterday. I’m sorry. I got freaked out, and I was an idiot and an arsehole. I’m sorry. This is not because of that. I had it wrapped a week ago. Please take it.”

Harry finally makes eye contact again, and Louis feels relief bloom in his chest. It feels like anything is possible, anything can be fixed, when he can look into those green eyes.

“I’m still mad at you,” Harry says quietly.

“I know. That’s okay.”

He takes the gift and walks into the living room, leaving Louis behind in the kitchen. He turns and watches as Harry sits on the couch gingerly and thumbs at the paper covering the box.

“It’s nothing much,” he says as he joins him in the living room. He finds Gracie sleeping in her chair and gently rubs his hand down her long back, soft enough not to wake her. She sleeps like a rock. Just like Harry. How appropriate.

After an exhausting minute of waiting for Harry to finish pulling off the shiny, green paper, he opens the box and pulls out a long-sleeved, sheer button-up the color of a bruised plum. He must like it because he smiles sweetly, rubbing his thumb over the fine material.

“It’s so pretty,” he breathes. “Thanks, Lou.”

“You don’t wear enough purple. Makes your eyes pop. And it’s so dark, it almost looks black, so I didn’t think it would be too much.”

“I love it. I’ll wear it today.” He smiles, and Louis’ thoughts erupt into a hallelujah chorus.

“There’s more.”

Harry looks at him and then down at the box in confusion. He pulls the shirt out completely, setting in on the couch beside his legs. Upon doing so, he sees the collar Louis so carefully picked out for his favorite girl.

“You two really are in love, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, we’re going to run away together,” Louis says, smiling.

Harry chuckles quietly. “You want to wake her up so you can put it on her?”

Louis moves his hand to the space behind her ear that when scratched makes her legs kick out excitedly. “Gracie, wake up,” he coos. “Got a surprise for you, sleepy girl.”

The dog’s eyes pop open excitedly only to droop again seconds later. She yawns, a yelp sounding at the end of it.

“Gracie, don’t be rude. It’s Christmas, and your Louis brought you a gift.”

She opens her eyes once more and immediately rolls over on the chair, looking for a belly rub.

“Well, she knows what she likes. I’ll give her that,” Louis giggles.

“Come here, love! Got something for you,” Harry says a bit more loudly. She leaps off of the chair and runs over to him, nearly knocking Louis down in the process. He removes her old, slightly worn out collar, and replaces it with Louis’, light pink and studded sparingly with tiny gems, as she sits patiently. “Pretty girl,” he says, giving her one last scratch behind her ear. “Go say thank you.”

Louis plants his bum on the coffee table and wraps his arms around her body loosely when she jumps up to place her front legs in his lap and lick his cheek. “Aw, you’re welcome, baby.”

After getting her fill of love from Louis, she turns and jumps up onto the couch, stretching her limbs and laying down with half of her body on Harry’s lap.

They both laugh at her dramatic performance for a few moments before Harry goes quiet. He doesn’t look angry anymore. He’s still smiling. That’s something.

“Lou?”

“Yeah, Haz?”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” He frowns, not understanding.

“Just…I don’t know. For hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Harry.”

“It’s not entirely your fault that things are still kind of weird between us. And I know you think that it is. I know you, Lou. But I’ve played my part. I think it’s just going to take practice. But I want to. I want to practice. I just get upset sometimes because like…my brain gets all jumbled up and I don’t know what to think or say or do. It’s weird, yeah? I feel like I’m doing it now. I’m just rambling a bunch of nonsense, aren’t I?”

“No. You pretty much just said exactly what I came over here to say. As usual, you mind reader.”

Harry is smiling again, and Louis never wants him to stop.

“Would you like to come with me to see my mum and dad and Gem? We’re having dinner tonight. I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

Louis feels stuck. He wants nothing more than to stay with Harry all day, but he’s pretty sure his family wouldn’t be too thrilled to spend Christmas with the boy who broke Harry’s heart all those years ago.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Oh.” Harry looks down at his hands, gently playing with his new shirt. “Okay. Well, I have to get ready.”

 _Shit._ “Haz, no, I want to go, it’s just…I don’t think they’d want me there. I didn’t exactly leave on good terms with your family.”

He picks his head up to look him in the eyes once more. “Louis, what are you talking about? They love you.”

“They used to.”

“They still do, you loon. Please come with me. It’ll be fun.”

Louis hesitates, but he knows he’d rather sit through an awkward dinner than disappoint Harry. “Okay, fine,” he nods. “Can we take Gracie on a walk before we go? Do we have time?”

“I’m sure she’d love to show off her new bling,” Harry says, smiling.

“My thoughts exactly.”

They wake Gracie, who has managed to fall asleep again, and bundle up. A shiver runs up Louis’ spine as they walk out the door and into the cold. The sun is shining brightly, but it does little to diminish the chill in the air.

“My ears are cold.”

“Your ears are always cold.”

It’s little things like that. The casual little reminders that Harry knows him better than anyone. Those hurt the worst.

Gracie is steadily pulling on the leash, tugging Harry along faster than either of them wish to go, but they keep up with her, welcoming the small amount of warmth that accompanies the mild workout.

“Why did you want to go for a walk if you were going to be this cold?” Harry chuckles.

“I’m nervous.”

“About what?”

“Seeing your family.”

“Why?”

Louis’ eyes widen in irritation, and he has to stop himself from yelling. “Can you please stop interrogating me?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You shouldn’t be, though. Nervous, that is.”

“Well, I can’t exactly bloody control it, can I?”

“Lou, calm down, it’s going to be fine. Don’t get yourself all worked up, okay?”

“Can we just talk about something else?”

Harry hands over the leash, knowing, once again, exactly what Louis needs. “Sure.”

It’s quiet for a moment while both of them wrack their brains for a new topic of conversation. Finally, Harry says, “So, do you remember me saying I thought Liam had a secret boyfriend?”

“Well, you left out the boyfriend part, but yeah,” Louis nods. “Continue.”

“He called me last night and spilled his guts. Apparently, he reconnected with some guy he grew up with after finding out through the grapevine that he moved pretty close to where his family lives now. They’ve been sort of a thing for a few months, but he said it’s getting serious and that he wants me to meet him.”

Louis’s lips turn up in a genuine smile at the thought of a happy Liam. He doesn’t know him all that well yet, but he wants to. He considers him a friend already. And he and Niall have been chatting pretty consistently since they met at  _Ed’s_.

“Aw, that’s great. Did you plan anything?”

“Not yet. But I was thinking that you could invite Niall up next weekend and we could all go to the pub. Liam and I are supposed to play. We could all meet Liam’s new man, and we could celebrate your new job. What do you think?”

“Niall’s been bugging me actually. He’ll definitely want to come. He really likes it here for whatever reason.”

“You’re here.”

“Hardly a reason,” he says, laughing lightly. “We lived together for five years, he’s had enough of me.”

“Why do you always think that?”

“Think what?” Louis asks, confused suddenly.

“You have this like…complex that people don’t want you around. I don’t get it. Niall, my family, even me. You have people who love you, Lou.”

Louis’ brain is short-circuiting. All he can hear is  _love you Lou, love you Lou, love you Lou_  playing in a loop in his head. That’s not even what Harry meant, but Louis’ brain apparently didn’t get the memo.

“Alright, you giant sap,” he says, trying to move off the subject. Harry allows it, and they move on to speculation about Liam’s secret lover until they make it back to Harry’s apartment, a tired and panting Gracie still dragging them along.

Twenty minutes later, Harry has changed into his new shirt and the tightest pair of black skinnies Louis has ever seen in his life. He looks good enough to eat.

“Ready?”

“Yeah. Do you feel this guilty every time you leave and have to say goodbye to that sad face?”

Harry looks over toward Gracie and smiles. He walks over to her chair and scratches behind both of her ears. “She’s a brave girl. She’ll be okay. Won’t you, baby? I’ll miss you, too, but I’ll see you soon.” He presses a quick kiss to her head and heads toward Louis and the door.

“Let’s go! Christmas! Woo!”

Louis tries valiantly to smile, but he can’t help the twinge of hurt surely evident on his face. He feels even more pitiful than Gracie. Because he knows very, very well the pain that comes with missing Harry Styles.

Not much later, Louis attempts to control his shaky breathing as they walk into Harry’s family home. The house Louis grew up in as much as his own. He managed to hide his fear and his pain upon their arrival. Being here hurts. He never wanted to walk across that porch ever again. But Harry is happy, and Louis can pull himself together if only to keep the smile on that lovely boy’s face.

“Mum!” Harry shouts, his family nowhere to be seen. “Gemma!”

They walk across the foyer and toward the back of the house, to the windows overlooking the small garden in the backyard. His family is sitting by the outdoor fireplace, bundled up in thick jumpers.

“It’s bloody freezing,” Louis whines.

“Oh, don’t be a wuss. C’mon.”

Harry opens the door and steps outside, holding it open for Louis who walks out hesitantly, not entirely ready for the looks he knows he’s going to get.

“Hey, brother,” Gemma says softly, turning her head toward them. “Happy Chri—”

Gemma is staring at him, her mouth hanging open. Anne is staring at Harry, looking like she wants an explanation. Robin can’t seem to look at just one of them, his eyes darting between them quickly, a confused expression wrinkling his face. Louis wants to melt into the ground, but seeing as it’s freezing outside, that probably won’t happen.

“Happy Christmas!” Harry squeals as if the world isn’t rearranging itself. “I invited Louis to have dinner with us.”

Anne snaps out of her frozen state and stands, pulling the blanket around her shoulders a little tighter as she walks toward them. Suddenly, her palm is cupped on Louis’ cheek. “It’s nice to have you back, love. Happy Christmas.” She reaches up to press a soft, warm kiss to the cold skin that had been touched by her hand moments before. Louis didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this. “Come sit, boys. Throws are in the basket.”

They join Harry’s family on the cushioned benches near the fire, Harry next to his sister, and Louis on a third, previously unoccupied seat.

No one is saying anything. Louis has to talk. He can’t just sit here in silence. “How have you been?” he asks meekly, glancing around their small circle.

“Fine,” Gemma replies curtly.

Okay, so Gemma is predictable, at least. He looks to Harry for reassurance and finds him smiling as if something is amusing him.

“And what have you been doing for these past five years,  _Louis_?” she spits.

“Be nice,” Harry mumbles just loudly enough for Louis to hear.

“I will not. What are you doing here?” Her bright eyes are piercing Louis’ heart. He can see the anger in them. He deserves it.

“I moved back. Harry and I have been spending time together.”

Harry cuts in, “It’s okay. We’re friends again. Right, Lou?”

Gemma snorts, “ _Friends_?”

Louis chooses to ignore her little quip. He has to if he’s going to maintain his sanity. She’s angry, and she has every right to be. He broke her brother’s heart. And he knows her. She isn’t going to stop until she’s satisfied, so the best option for Louis is just to ignore the smaller jabs.

“I’m trying to fix things. If you don’t want to see me, I’ll leave. I’m just asking for the chance to make it right.”

“Are you kidding me?” she asks coldly.

“Gemma, that’s enough,” Anne says sternly. She directs her gaze at Louis. “You are always welcome here. My daughter has a bad attitude, and I won’t allow that on Christmas. Let’s go inside, it’s cold.”

Everyone hesitates, remaining seated as Anne folds her blanket and places it in the basket between two of the benches. She enters the house without waiting for the rest of them to follow. Louis watches as Harry and Gemma have a silent conversation with their eyes. He places his hand on her knee and squeezes before standing and dumping his blanket in the basket. Robin stands, and he walks over to Gemma and guides her to her feet, ushering her through the door and into the house. Louis pushes himself off of the bench when only he and Harry are left outside.

“This was a bad idea.”

“Lou, you had to have known she was going to do that.” He rolls his eyes and smiles. “She’s a brat. She’ll get over it. Just got to give her some of that Tomlinson charm.”

“She hates me. And I don’t even blame her.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s confused and she’s worried about me. Just like she’s supposed to be. I’m her little brother, you know how protective she is. She’s always been that way.”

Louis can’t make himself look at him. Harry takes his face in his cold hands, and Louis’ heart skips a beat when he looks at his dark eyes contrasting with his pale skin. For a split second, he thinks Harry is going to kiss him again. Instead, he says, “Don’t worry about any of them. It’s just us. I want you here.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t. I don’t want to ruin your family’s Christmas.”

“My mum does. Robin does. And Gemma will be fine. She was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Harry—”

“Look, if you want to leave, I can’t stop you. But I want you to stay.” He drops his hands from his face and grasps Louis’ hanging limply by his side. “Please stay.”

Louis huffs out a breath and says, “Fine. But if she tries to beat me up, you have to protect me.”

Harry laughs. “You’ve got a deal.”

Five hours pass, and no one has lost an eye. Anne seems to be genuinely happy to have him here. Gemma has calmed down significantly. She isn’t really talking to him, but one step at a time, right? They watched  _Love Actually_ , because of course they did. Harry was giddy through the entire film, and Louis was in pain watching him, wishing he could reach out and touch.

Anne and Robin cover the dining room table with a variety of dishes. Meat and potatoes and vegetables and freshly baked bread. They all eat hungrily, the sounds of chewing and forks scraping plates only interrupted by Harry answering questions about the café and Gemma telling stories from school.

“So, Louis,” Anne says, “you’re teaching now?”

“Oh, um…yeah. Well, I’m starting next month. Little ones.”

“What happened to theatre, love?”

“Well, you know it was kind of always a toss-up between the two. Just decided it wasn’t for me after a while. I wanted something a little more grounding.”

“That’s okay, love. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful teacher. You’ve always been so great with your sisters. I’m sure the kids will love you.”

“That’s what I keep trying to tell him, but he never listens to me,” Harry says, directing a sly smile at Louis and kicking him under the table.

Louis feels his cheeks heat up under all of the attention. “Thanks,” he says. “I’m excited. And I’m glad to be back.”

Anne smiles gently, and it hits Louis just how much he’s missed these people. “Of course, love. It’s nice to have you back at home where you belong.” She winks at him before standing up to begin clearing the table.

Louis gets to work, wanting to show his appreciation. He gathers a few serving bowls, placing his and Harry’s plates and utensils in the bowl stacked on top. He walks around the table and asks Gemma if he can take her plate. She nods and hands it to him, managing not to sneer. _Progress_ , he thinks as Harry chuckles from across the table.

“You can just put those anywhere,” Anne says when Louis joins her in the kitchen. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Thank you for having me. Everything was delicious, as usual.”

“You’re welcome, kiss arse.”

Louis breathes out an unexpected laugh. “You guys haven’t changed much.”

“You haven’t either, my love. Neither of you have.”

“Harry’s different.”

“Is he really, though?” She eyes him knowingly, raising her eyebrows.

Louis drops his head and picks at a loose thread on the hem of his jumper. “Suppose not, no.”

Anne dries her hands on a floral-patterned dish towel and turns away from the sink. She steps toward him, staying out of reach. She doesn’t give a comforting touch as she had before. Louis remembers what that look means. He’s about to receive a warning.

“I love you, Louis. Very much. I have since you and your wonderful family came here. You always made my boy happy, and you know that’s all I care about. I want my babies to be happy.”

Louis nods and listens, knowing this is far from over.

“I could never hurt you more than you’ve hurt yourself. I don’t want to. So I’ll just say this. He’s not invincible. No matter how much he would like to think so. No matter how much he can make that seem like the truth.” She pauses, making sure he’s listening. “Don’t you  _dare_  destroy him again.”

She can surely see the tears wavering in his eyes, threatening to spill over any second.

“Anne?”

“Mhm?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“I know.”

He shakes his head, “No, you couldn’t know.”

“You think just because you left, your mother and I stopped talking? She’s my best friend. I already know, Louis.”

Fear grips his heart. He knows if she tells Harry, he’ll lose him forever. “Please don’t tell him,” he whispers.

“This is for the two of you to figure out yourselves. Your mums are keeping their big mouths shut.”

“I just want him to be h-happy,” Louis stutters out, a sob wracking his chest, tears leaving wet tracks down his cheeks.

She lifts her hand to his face, smoothing her thumb over his cheek, wiping the tears away. “Funny that. He said the same about you.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a scene which depicts self-harm in a very mild/vague/non-graphic manner. No cutting, no blood, no real danger to anyone, but I still want you to be aware. Most of you will probably think this isn't even necessary because it's like barely there, honestly, but the thoughts and intent are present. I don't want to cause anyone harm. If you would like a summary of this chapter so that you don't have to read anything possibly upsetting, please don't hesitate to ask. Be safe, my darlings. <3

Louis leans into the back of the couch, his thigh against Harry’s, listening to Anne and Robin tell the story of their backpacking holiday in Ireland, alternating between watching them animate the tale and staring out into the dark night through the window. He told them about his Irish roommate and asked if they had been to any of the places he had learned of over the years living with Niall. They paint vivid pictures of their time spent in hidden pubs, in breathtakingly beautiful cathedrals, on the cobbled streets of Dublin, on the Cliffs of Moher. Anne’s eyes sparkle when she’s happy, just like Harry’s. Robin laughs through a retelling of the events of a night they had in a tiny pub in Galway, slapping his knee and wiping away tears when he gets to the part where a local asked his wife to dance and she choked on her cider in surprise, resulting in the Irishman being covered in her drink. “That’s enough from you, you big goof. I’m cutting off your wine supply,” Anne says, giggling uncontrollably.

Louis wants this. He wants the spontaneous holidays and the laughter and the love that is so obvious everyone in the room can see it. He wants quiet nights laced with hushed whispers and wandering hands. He wants to stand at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea and know someone is there, never letting him fall. He wants Harry. He wants to laugh with him like that and touch his skin so gently goosebumps form under his fingers. He wants to have stories with him that belong only to them, stories they could kiss onto one another’s lips on stormy nights. He wants everything. But he only wants it if he’s sharing it with Harry.

Anne leaves to place Robin’s wine glass in the sink and refill her own. Harry follows her, and Gemma joins them almost immediately after Harry leaves the room. They’re up to something.

Louis decides he isn’t going to be the subject of gossip and stands to join them in the kitchen, receiving a supportive nod from Robin in the process. As he enters the kitchen, Anne yells suspiciously loudly, “Louis! Hey!”

“Were you guys gossiping about little ole me?”

Harry snorts, “No, what are you even…you’re crazy. What are you talking about?” He has always been the worst liar. Just absolutely dreadful. “Anyway,” he continues, “uh…anyone want to play Scrabble?” He quickly moves toward Louis and grabs his hand, pulling him back in the direction of the living room.

Before they get too far, Anne stops them with a deafening shriek.

“Mum, what the hell?” Harry asks, his eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed.

She points to a spot above their heads, previously unseen by Louis. He quickly glances back-and-forth between the small, green leaves hanging overhead and the wide, green eyes before him, his heart racing inside of his ribcage.

“You can’t cross that line together without a kiss, you know better.”

Louis’ mind is blanking on any reason why he shouldn’t kiss Harry right now. But he can’t move. He really needs to work on the communication skills between his brain and his body. It’s been quite a problem lately. Harry seems to be just as freaked out as Louis, and he can’t decide if that’s a reason for hope or for despair.

 _You’re never going to have a chance if you don’t try._ His mum’s words float around in his head, poking and prodding, begging him to listen. To do something. _Anything._

“It’s bad luck,” he whispers, holding his breath.

“Can’t have that,” Harry breathes quietly.

The memory of his mum’s soft encouragement is replaced by internal screaming. He waits, petrified and frozen in time, for Harry to come even the tiniest bit closer.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Gemma suddenly shouts, briskly walking from her spot beside Anne and squeezing past them, pushing Harry into Louis’ body forcefully, returning to the living room to throw herself into an overstuffed armchair.

“Language, young lady!” Anne yells as she makes her way past them, as well.

They look at one another again, and Harry is the only thing he can see, but he can feel three pairs of eyes on him in addition to Harry’s. He’s seconds away from making a joke, walking away like this never happened. Like he never had this chance. But then Harry takes a step forward and raises his hand to Louis’ cheek, rosy with embarrassment and hot with anticipation. He feels his breath catch in his throat and prays that he’s able to respond at all to whatever it is Harry is about to do.

Harry moves his face closer to Louis’, his fingers barely moving against his cheek, his shaky breath wavering in the air between them. Louis closes his eyes and feels Harry’s lips press softly to his other cheek. He’s not quite surprised, considering his reaction the last time Harry kissed him. Even if it was an accident. And it would hurt if it weren’t for his lingering presence, his lips dry and cool against Louis’ overheated skin. His mind wanders back to two nights ago, the festival and the awkward drive and the thoughtful gift and the falling tears that made his eyes feel tired and scratchy and forced him into a deep, exhausted sleep. He had this same feeling that night. Somehow this feels like a promise. Of what, though, Louis isn’t sure.

Harry pulls away hesitantly, keeping his eyes locked with Louis’ for far too long. “I have to go home soon,” he says finally.

“I’m sure your big, goofy puppy misses you.”

A smile starts to grow on Harry’s face, replacing the manic expression that had been there since Louis walked into the kitchen.

“Come outside with me for a bit.”

Louis nods and manages not to visibly cringe when he hears himself respond dreamily, “Okay.”

There’s no point in telling anyone where they’re going. All three of them have been openly gawking at them the entire time.

They step out onto the porch, and Louis isn’t scared. He isn’t sad or angry. He’s happy. He never, in a million years, thought he would ever stand on this porch again and smile. But something is different right now. Something changed tonight. The vague notion of it rattles around in his bones, the name of the feeling on the tip of his tongue. It’s a mild, enjoyable discomfort, and he doesn’t mind it. Because Harry is still smiling at him.

“Do you want to stay over at mine tonight?” Harry asks.  Louis can hear a note of tension in his voice. “We could play Scrabble.”

“You hate playing Scrabble with me. I always cheat.”

Harry throws his hand up to his chest dramatically and gasps loudly. “He finally admits it.”

Louis is surprised by the loud giggle that erupts from his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“You are not.”

“I’m really not.”

Harry moves closer, and Louis senses an impending attack. “Hazzah…don’t you dare,” he says quietly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Harry’s smile broadens to the point of looking painful, and Louis runs toward the wooden steps. Victory seems certain as he descends quickly until he’s suddenly knocked into the grass, Harry’s larger body pinning him there.

Harry grabs his shoulder and flips him over. _Kiss me_ , Louis begs silently. _Please, please kiss me. Kiss me for real. Like you mean it._

He doesn’t. He just hovers over Louis’ body like he forgot what he was doing. Without warning, he shoves his hands under Louis’ arms and wiggles them in the most horrible, torturous way possible.

“Harry! No! Ahh, stop! Stop it! Please!” Louis wheezes.

And okay. His eyes are flinging tears every time he whips his head to the side and his hair is getting caked with dirt and this is not sexy. But again…communication difficulties. His brain is aware that this is not at all an appropriate time or situation for his jeans to start feeling tighter, for his pulse to speed up and his breathing to become loud and heavy in the air. But his dick apparently didn’t get the memo. Fear swells inside of him. He has to get out of here.

“Harry! Please stop! Harry, get off of me, I mean it!” he screams in a panic. Harry doesn’t relent, is thankfully seemingly still unaware of the situation happening in Louis’ jeans right now.

Unable to take it any longer, he lets out a bloodcurdling scream, “Harry, get off of me right fucking now!”

Harry stops immediately, pulling his hands back from Louis’ body. He’s still straddling Louis, and that’s the last place on Earth Louis wants him right now.

“Please get off.”

“Louis, are you okay?”

“Just get off of me! Fuck, Harry! Are you deaf?! Get off!”

Harry stands, increasing the distance between their bodies. Louis pushes himself up and stumbles further away.

“Lou, I’m sorry—”

“I have to go.”

“Why?!” Harry screams, seeming to finally understand that Louis is fighting with him. “Why do you have to go?”

“I just have to go, Harry. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Will you please stay with me tonight?”

“Harry, I’m going home. I’ll see you later, yeah? Maybe I’ll stop by the shop this week.”

“No,” Harry says in a firm tone.

“No? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re not going home. You’re coming with me, and we’re going to talk. I’m so fucking sick of doing this with you. I’m going to go inside and tell my family goodbye, and you’re going to wait right here. And if you leave, I’m going to find you and I will take you back to my place by force.” He turns and yells over his shoulder as he walks toward the house, “I’m serious, Louis! Don’t even try it.”

He fidgets nervously as Harry takes a million years to say goodbye to three people, willing his cock to relax until he can do something about it. Finally, he steps back out into the night, racing toward Louis and pulling him along in the direction they came from this morning.

“Why are you freaking out?”

“Why am _I_  freaking out? Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry shrieks.

Louis can’t really argue with that, so he just shuts his mouth and accepts his very unfortunate fate. Louis is thankful that they walked, thankful that he isn’t having to sit in a quiet car with a suspicious, irritated Harry and no distractions. When they turn the corner onto Harry’s street, he breathes a sigh of relief. He formulated a plan on the way here. Everything is going to be fine. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Upon entering the apartment, Louis pushes past Harry and nearly runs to the loo. Gracie leaps from her chair, but he can’t stop to comfort her.

“What are you doing?!” Harry nearly screams, sounding frantic and confused and annoyed.

‘I’m taking a shower if that’s quite all right with you.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!” Louis echoes, slamming the door and cursing when he discovers there is no lock.

He turns the hot water knob all the way to the left, water bursting out of the shower head, and peels off his clothes. He stares at himself in the mirror until he doesn’t recognize his own face, twisted up in some kind of frantic, tired expression. Stepping into the shower, the water is not nearly hot enough, but he really can’t wait any longer. He lets the warm water wash over his face and rubs his palms against his closed eyes.

He can’t believe what he’s about to do. But he doesn’t really have a choice, does he? And besides, it’s Harry’s fault anyway. He just thinks he can touch Louis and act like he wants him and is going to kiss him all the damn time and that Louis isn’t going to…react?!

He takes his cock in his hand and shudders as heat immediately pools in his lower stomach. He’s been somewhat hard for what feels like a bloody millennium, and all he wants is some relief so that he can look Harry in the eyes again and feel clean and a little less scared that Harry will figure everything out just because his dick won’t cooperate. He leans his arm against the cold tile of the shower wall and hides his face against his wet skin, closing his eyes and trying to remember to breathe. As he touches himself in Harry’s shower. For fuck’s sake, this is a whole new level of pathetic, desperate Louis. He can’t help but imagine how much better Harry’s hands would feel on him than his own. Soft and gentle, but strong and firm. He thinks of Harry’s lips on his cheek, where they had been tonight. On his own lips, where they had been only yesterday. On his neck and on his collarbones, where they once were much too long ago. And on his nipples, on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, stretched around his cock, where they have never been. That’s all it takes for him to come, thick lines painting his chest only briefly before the proof of his shame is washed away by the water that has finally gotten hot enough to hurt. Just the way he needs it to.

He turns around, has to in order to distribute the stinging sensation to different areas of his body, unable to take the pain for very long in any particular spot. Tears pool in his eyes, and he knows he has to leave. He can’t be here.

“Lou? I’m sorry, I just need to come in for a minute. That okay?” Harry’s voice sounds from the other side of the door, accompanied by a soft knock.

He wipes the tears from his eyes, unable to differentiate anymore between the tears and the scalding hot water trickling down his face from his hair. “Yeah,” he says, just loudly enough for Harry to hear him.

The door opens, and Louis squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t move, just waits for him to leave.

“Shit, Lou. It’s hot as Hell in here.”

A pang of humiliation hits him in the chest. Just one more thing Harry will learn about him that will make him want to leave and give up on dealing with Louis for even one more second.

“Louis?”

He feels paralyzed, his throat tight around words he can’t get out. He has to say something or Harry will come closer. He’s caught in an internal battle over whether that’s what he really wants when he hears Harry’s voice closer than it was moments earlier.

“Lou, I need you to listen to me for just a bit, okay? Please answer me.”

“Okay,” he says shakily, the hot water burning his back.

“I’m going to reach inside and turn off the water. I’m going to hand you a towel. I’m not looking, okay? You need to get out. I haven’t even felt it, and I can tell the water is too hot just from the steam in here. You’re going to burn yourself.”

Louis doesn’t respond, just stares at the wall, waiting. The water shuts off, and any relief he might feel is numbed by his exhaustion. He turns his head and sees Harry’s hand holding a dark blue towel. He takes it and wraps it around his shoulders after drying his hair just enough for it to stop dripping. It’s soft, and it smells like Harry’s shampoo and laundry detergent.

He takes in a quiet breath and says, “Can you go—”

“Louis, please don’t ask me to leave,” Harry interrupts in a much more insecure tone than before.

He pulls the towel around himself tighter and tries not to get lost in the smell of apples and flowers and cool nights. “I just need clothes,” he says quietly.

“Oh. Okay, yeah. Of course. Sorry, I just…um. Okay, hold on. I’ll be right back.”

Not a minute later, Louis hears the sound of Harry’s feet slapping against the steamed tile again. “Thank you,” he says before Harry can get another word in. “I’ll be out in a few.”

He thinks he hears Harry sigh before the door closes with that beautiful boy on the other side of it. He steps out of the shower, grateful for the ridiculously fluffy bathmat only Harry would buy, and only feels a tiny amount of self-hatred when his heart skips a beat upon slipping Harry’s Kiss t-shirt over his head. It’s worn out and too big and absolutely perfect. He steps into a pair of black boxers and pushes his hair out of his face before leaving the room to enter into a much cooler living room. Turns out, Harry hasn’t gone very far. And apparently, he lost his shirt somewhere along the way.

“Hey.”

Louis nods once, wavering between self-consciousness at being caught doing something decidedly not normal and trying not to drool all over himself because Harry is half-naked. And then he sees it. A ship. He suddenly realizes for the first time that his arm is visible, Harry’s t-shirt not even close to covering his compass. But Harry has a ship on his arm. And yeah, he apparently just has a thing for nautical tattoos, but…there aren’t really any two things that are more complementary than a ship and a fucking compass. But that’s not all. Because he lifts his arm to scratch an itch on the back of his neck, and right there in bold black lettering is the word ‘hi.’ In the exact handwriting Louis used when he wrote that first note for the boy down the street. He didn’t know his name yet, but he wanted to, so he had taken a chance and said hello. He had said hi.

“Please stay,” Harry says quietly, not removing his gaze from Louis’ face, still rosy from the heat of the water.

Louis snaps out of his reverie but remains in a state of shock. He just has to say some words. Right.  Words.

“Haz, I just want to go home.”

Harry closes the distance between them, pulling Louis into his arms, Louis’ own pressed tightly to his sides. He squeezes for just a moment, not nearly enough time, before he loosens his hold on him. He doesn’t let go, though. Louis never wants him to.

“No, you don’t,” Harry whispers.

Louis sniffles into the dip between Harry’s neck and shoulder and pulls his arms out from underneath Harry’s, wrapping them around his waist loosely. He’s so tired. “No, I don’t.”

Harry guides him to his bedroom, and Louis is too exhausted to resist.

“I’ll be on the couch.”

Louis gets swept up in a dangerous train of thought as he crawls under the sheets and feels his body sink into the mattress. _He’s freaked out. He doesn’t want to sleep next to you. Why can’t you just be normal and not be in love with your best friend?_

“Louis, are you okay?”

He nods weakly, just wants him to stay. But he can’t say that, so he keeps his mouth shut, worried the words might fall out anyway.

“I have aloe vera lotion.”

Another silent nod. Harry opens the drawer on his bedside table, and Louis hears the snap of a bottle opening.

“Can you turn over onto your belly?”

Louis does, doesn’t possess the strength to even wonder if this is a bad idea. He just wants him to stay in this room for as long as possible. He finds himself hoping he can fall asleep before Harry leaves him here alone.

“Do you want to keep your shirt on? I could just lift it up a bit.”

Louis reaches down, lifting up to remove the shirt before letting his face rest upon Harry’s pillow once again. At the touch of Harry’s hands against his overheated skin, he shuts his eyes and focuses on breathing evenly, willing any leftover tears to remain unshed. His hands feel cool, his long fingers providing just a little pressure to his sore muscles under the relief of the lotion on his aching skin.

“You really did a number on yourself,” Harry says quietly. Louis doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.

“Does it help?” Harry asks. Louis knows he doesn’t mean the lotion.

“Yeah,” Louis whispers.

Harry is quiet for a minute or so. “I hate that you hurt yourself.” Louis stiffens under his ministrations. Harry must notice because he continues. “I’m not judging you. I understand what it feels like to want to do that sort of thing. Don’t freak out. I just needed to say it. I hate that you hurt yourself. It’s hard to watch someone you care about do something like that.”

“’M sorry,” Louis whispers into the pillow.

“It’s okay,” Harry says, reaching up to brush Louis’ fringe from in front of his eyes. He rubs his hands down Louis’ back a final time and says, “Might be better to keep your shirt off. Let your skin breathe.”

“Okay.”

“Louis?”

“Yeah, Haz.”

A pause. “Do you want me to stay?”

Relief grips Louis’ heart, and the tears make their way to the corners of his eyes. “Please.”

He lies down behind Louis and stills. “Um…I don’t want to hurt your back.”

“You don’t have to hold me, I’m not your bloody boyfriend, Harry.”

“No, I know…I just meant…nevermind.”

“What?”

“I was just gonna say that you could be the big spoon again. It was dumb, I was just trying to make you smile. It was bad timing, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking.”

Louis feels the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly despite everything. “Alright, turn over, you big baby,” he says, flipping over onto his side. He slips his arm over Harry’s waist and presses his chest against Harry’s broad back. He thinks he’s done with the inappropriate erections for tonight, so there’s the silver lining.

He’s nearly asleep when he feels a soft touch against his arm draped over Harry’s body. He maintains his steady breathing despite the panic swelling in his chest as Harry’s fingers run over the smooth, inked skin Louis was so fearful of him seeing before.

“What the hell?” Harry whispers, so quietly Louis almost can’t hear him even as close as they are.

And really, Louis couldn’t have said it any better himself.

He focuses on the soft pressure of Harry’s fingertips on his arm and the way the moonlight is shining through the window and across their legs covered by the warm duvet until he can hold his eyes open no longer and falls asleep, tangled up in Harry in every possible way.


	22. Chapter 22

Louis wakes to sunlight pouring into Harry’s bedroom. He opens his eyes, blinking slowly, to find himself draped across Harry, his chest sealed to Harry’s back with the kind of thin sweat that comes with heavy sleep.

He eventually peels himself off of his boy, still sleeping soundly. He smiles at the sound of the little puffs of air coming from his mouth, wishing he could see his face. He’s always been so beautiful in the morning, with his bright, green eyes and puffy, pink lips, lines pressed into his delicate skin by his pillowcase.

He sits up, moving his pillow to lean against the headboard and notices his phone sitting on the table on his side of the bed. Harry must have taken it from Louis’ jeans and put it there last night after forcing him out of the shower. After checking his messages, he types out a text to Niall.

_I need to talk to you tonight. Please make yourself available._

As soon as it sends, a small bubble pops up on the screen, indicating Niall’s impending response.

_You got it, mate. My empty schedule has been cleared. You okay?_

Louis sighs quietly, careful not to wake Harry.

_Much has happened on your favorite program that is ‘Louis’ Life.’ Help me sort some things out?_

_Of course, Tommo. Talk soon._

Louis places the phone back in its spot on the table and sinks into his pillow. Harry turns over and sniffles, wiggling his nose and smacking his lips together gently. He’s adorable.

“Morning,” he says, his voice even deeper and raspier than usual. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, so he can’t see the smile plastered on Louis’ face, but Louis thinks he probably knows it’s there.

“Morning, Haz.”

He peeks out from under one squinted eyelid and they both laugh quietly when their eyes meet.

“What time is it?”

Louis presses the button on his phone, the screen illuminating under his touch. “Almost ten.”

Harry groans, “Oh my God, I never sleep this late. You’re a bad influence, Louis Tomlinson.”

“Excuse you, I’ve been awake for nearly fifteen minutes. Don’t blame me, lazybones.”

Harry chuckles and brings his hands up to his face, rubbing his tired eyes. “Breakfast?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Please, I’m starving.”

Louis leaves Harry to finish waking up and heads to the loo to empty his bladder and hopefully find some moisturizer for his face. After finishing his haphazard routine, he meanders into the living room and greets a sleepy but very happy Great Dane.

“Good morning, pretty girl," he whispers. "I’m sorry for not saying hello last night. I was very scared and sad, and I had to get away, y’know?” He scratches behind her ear and she stretches her neck out to lick his face. “Glad to know I’m forgiven,” he chuckles.

Harry steps into view and smiles at them. “What would you like for breakfast? I think I have everything for French toast.”

“Mmm,” Louis pauses, bringing his fingers to his lips and kissing them dramatically in imitation of a cartoon chef, “parfait.”

“Oh, bringing out the French,” Harry says, giggling and wiggling his eyebrows. “I like it. Très sexy.”

Louis laughs, realizing he doesn’t care one iota if Harry sees the sparkles in his eyes.

Harry gets to work in the kitchen, pulling miscellaneous ingredients and cooking tools out of cabinets all around the room. Louis hops up onto the counter and watches him silently.

“You’re being creepy.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” Harry argues, turning to look at him. “Can’t say I really mind it, though. I like the company. I like your company.”

Louis was having a complete meltdown only twelve hours ago, and now he’s sitting on Harry’s kitchen counter, perfectly content. Harry had said that he felt he couldn’t keep up with him. Louis understands. He can’t keep up with himself. But Harry can always make everything feel normal again. And happy and comfortable and okay. No matter what may have happened the night before.

“I missed you, too, H.”

Harry smiles that dimply smile Louis will never stop loving. “Are you going to help me, or are you just going to sit there being useless?”

Louis joins Harry in preparing their breakfast. They work quietly until Gracie wanders into the kitchen and begs for a treat. Harry hands Louis a piece of brioche, and he tears it into smaller bites for her to devour.

When their two plates are stacked with delicious smelling French toast, they retreat to the couch, Louis folding his legs crisscross style, Harry throwing his across the cushions, his feet in Louis’ lap.

“Oi! I’m trying to eat this beautiful meal I’ve prepared so painstakingly. Do you mind, you neanderthal?”

“Not at all,” Harry murmurs through a mouthful of food.  He dares to wink at him.

Louis smiles and takes his plate from the coffee table, balancing it on the inside of Harry’s foot.

Harry yanks his foot away, and Louis holds onto his plate tightly, having known exactly what was going to happen.

“That’s cold!”

“It’s rude to put your feet on someone when they’re eating. I can’t believe I even have to tell you that.”

Harry brings his foot up to Louis’ shoulder and gently shoves him into the arm of the couch. “Where have my manners gone?”

“I don’t know, but you really must find them. You own a restaurant, for goodness’ sake.”

Harry smiles, and Louis’ heart grows to twice its normal size.

That is how the morning goes. And the afternoon. And the evening. Harry says things and Louis falls more in love with him with every passing second.

“So I talked to Liam about this weekend. We’re playing for the New Year’s crowd, and he invited his boyfriend…well I guess they’re boyfriends…anyway, he invited him to the pub so we could meet. I asked him if he’d be cool with you and Niall being there, as well, and he just looked at me like I was crazy for even considering  _not_  having you both there. So here is your official invitation, please pass it along to Niall.”

“Do I even get a say in the matter?”

“Nope.”

“Damn. Guess I need to let my pimp know I’ll be busy New Year’s Eve.”

“You have something you want to share?”

“Nope,” Louis says, a sly grin on his lips.

“You’re so weird.”

“Thank you.”

Harry laughs loudly. “Get out of my apartment.”

“All right. Come on, Gracie,” he says, standing up to stretch out his back before heading to the door.

Harry rushes to stand behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. “I was just kidding, Lou. I don’t really want you to go.”

Louis breathes out a quiet laugh. “I know.”

“Good, so you’ll stay?” Harry asks, his breath tickling Louis’ ear.

“I actually should go home. Feel like I haven’t been there in a while, what with my running between here and my mum’s house for the past few days.”

“Oh,” Harry says, dropping his arms to release Louis. “Yeah, of course. Want a ride?”

Louis turns to face him and softly places his hand in the center of Harry’s chest. “That’s okay. I can walk.”

“You sure?”

He smiles and raises one teasing eyebrow. “Harry, I’m not going to break. I can be cold for twenty minutes, I’ll be fine.”

“No, I know, I just—”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t need to be any more specific. Harry knows he means for yesterday, for taking him to see his family, for standing up for him, for giving him his second family back. He knows he means for last night, for not allowing him to be alone because that really wasn’t what he had wanted, for taking care of him and stopping him from hurting himself further and rubbing lotion on his back, for staying in his arms through the night and the not-so-early morning. For being there, always.

“You’re welcome,” Harry nearly whispers.

“I’ll see you Saturday, yeah?”

Harry nods, forgoing a verbal response.

Louis reaches up, on the tips of his toes, and presses a barely-there kiss to Harry’s soft, warm cheek, just a little higher than his dimple. When he pulls away, Harry’s eyes are still closed.

“See you later, Haz.”

He removes his hand from Harry’s chest, trying to memorize the rhythm of Harry’s heart when it beats like this, just a touch faster than usual. Then he slips on his shoes, grabs his jacket and keys, and closes the door behind him after shooting his boy one last smile.

When he hears Harry’s shrill laugh through the door before descending the stairs, he can’t decide whether his own joy is due to the fact that he was somehow just smooth as hell or simply because he made Harry happy. Probably the latter. Most definitely the latter.

{~~~}

A few days later, there is a knock at Louis’ door.  The moment he opens it, his back hits the ground hard, the air knocked out of his lungs. He wheezes, trying valiantly to speak, but nothing comes out. Niall is stronger than he looks.

“Tommo! Tonight’s gonna be wicked awesome, mate!”

He finally catches his breath enough to whimper, “Get the fuck off of me, you idiot.”

Niall helps him stand and wraps his arms around him again, squeezing much too tightly.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“I’m excited, man! Finally get to see your dumbarse again. And Harry and Liam and Ed! And we get to meet Liam’s mystery man. It’s going to be so sick! Why aren’t you happy?”

“Jesus Christ, Niall. I  _am_  happy. But like…normal happy. I don’t think I could ever reach your level right now. You’re kind of scaring me.”

“Oh, shove off. C’mon, we’ve got to get ready!”

“We’re not meeting them for another three hours! You have completely lost your shit!” he yells as Niall lets him go and turns away.

Niall just flashes a frighteningly bright smile back at him and skips to the bathroom like a goddamned leprechaun, leaving Louis behind, feeling totally lost in translation.

{~~~}

It comes time to leave Louis’ flat, it’s pouring rain out, and Niall hasn’t calmed down in the slightest. They drive to  _Ed’s_ , having decided that the night would probably be more enjoyable if they weren’t soaking wet the whole time. Harry and Liam aren’t supposed to perform for another hour or so, as they had settled on a time that gave everyone the chance to meet and talk for a bit before the the two of them would have to get on stage. As soon as Louis parks the car, Niall flings the door open and runs inside, leaving Louis in the car, bewildered. What the hell has gotten into him? He practically vibrated in his seat the entire ride here.

He follows his blond friend inside, running through the rain until he is safely in the warmth of the place that is quickly becoming one of his favorite spots in town.

“Hi!” he shouts upon closing the big, wooden door. Everyone greets him jovially, everyone but Harry. He doesn’t say a word, just smiles sweetly as his eyes meet Louis’. He moves toward him and wraps his arms around his waist, hoisting him up into the air so far that his trainers leave the ground. “Hi,” he says again, more quietly, letting his arms rest on Harry’s shoulders. He giggles when Harry sets him down. “So are you also being a weirdo tonight?”

“Niall?”

“Uh… _yeah_.”

“What’s up with him toni—” Harry goes silent as they both turn to find three familiar faces and one new one staring at them, manic smiles on their faces.

Louis jerks away from Harry’s embrace, embarrassment tinting his cheeks upon realizing their arms were still linked around one another.

“Eh…anyway! Louis, Niall, this is Zayn, Liam’s boyfriend. Zayn, you already met Niall, I guess,” Harry says, trying not to laugh and looking down to make a goofy face at Louis. “And this is my Louis.”

All of their heads snap up once again, and Louis realizes what just happened, what Harry just said. He feels Harry stiffen where is arm is still touching him. He has to do something. Why is nobody doing anything?!

He steps forward in a panic and nearly shrieks, “I’m Louis! Nice to finally meet you.” His hand connects with Zayn’s, and they shake awkwardly, Louis’ suddenly sweaty palm slipping against Zayn’s.

He feels hyperaware of everyone’s unwavering gazes. It’s like everyone is superglued to that moment, and Louis just wants, needs, to move on. He fixes Niall with a frantic, pleading look, silently begging him to be chaotic, happy Niall, to distract everyone, make them forget what just happened. Because Harry still hasn’t moved, and Liam is staring straight at him.

“Ed! Pints, mate?! A lot of them?!” Niall yells, thankfully getting the hint.

Ed moves quickly, grabbing mugs from the shelf above the bar and filling them in earnest, foam spilling over the tops as he sends them sliding down the bar.

“So, lovebirds, what’s the story?” Louis asks, trying to keep his eyes on Harry as much as possible without being even more obvious. He had a slip of the tongue, and he’s clearly humiliated. And Louis doesn’t want him to make that face anymore, but he doesn’t know what to do. Because underneath the panic, he liked it. He liked the way Harry had said that. He kind of wishes he would say it again. All the time, if he’s being honest.

“Well,” Liam starts, “we grew up together and lost touch when I moved here, but long story short, he just couldn’t resist me anymore, so he had to move closer and try to win me over.”

“He’s not wrong,” Zayn says dreamily, smiling at Liam like he hung the stars in the sky.

They’re both ridiculously attractive, and Louis sort of wants to puke. They’re bloody adorable. This is so unfair.

Zayn casually brushes his long, black fringe out of his line of vision and looks back to Louis, piercing him with his amber eyes. His long arms are covered in tattoos, not dissimilar to Liam’s, until they become hidden by the sleeves of his t-shirt. _Nice job, Liam_.

“You two are so cute,” Niall says, breaking the silence Louis wasn’t even aware of in his distracted state.

Liam smiles and leans his head against Zayn’s shoulder. “Aw, thanks, man.”

“Uh...where is Harry?” Ed asks from behind the bar.

Louis looks around the room, a pang of nausea invading his senses when he doesn’t see Harry. “I’ll go find him.”

He makes his way around his friends, only feeling a little exposed and suspicious when they immediately start whispering, and heads to the rear exit. He’d bet good money he’s outside. No reason why really, he just knows somehow. He guesses it just comes with knowing Harry.

He steps outside, closing the door quietly behind him, thankful for the thin strip of metal attached to the wall providing protection from the rain.

“Hey,” he says, turning toward Harry, hunched over a short distance away.

Harry wipes his suspiciously red eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “Hey.”

“You trying to get all wet before your big show? Trying to be a real rockstar?”

“I’m not standing in the rain, I’m not crazy. I just needed a breather.”

“Okay,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I was just teasing, Haz.”

Harry attempts to convince him that everything is fine with an incredibly horrible fake smile, and Louis isn’t falling for that for one second.

“Why don’t we go get you set up?”

Harry nods and comes closer. “I need a drink.”

“Ed poured you a pint.”

“I think I’m going to need something a little stronger tonight.”

Louis eyes the back of his head suspiciously as he walks past him, back into the warmth of the pub. What is everyone’s deal tonight?

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you need, Haz.” Harry doesn’t respond, so he tries again. “Pre-show nerves?”

“Harry walks around the bar and grabs a bottle of whisky from the back counter. “Something like that.”

Harry throws back his drink, and Louis grimaces, imagining the sting of the warm liquid sliding down his throat. Louis helps him set up his stool and microphone, brings him his guitar, and yells at Liam to stop making out with his boyfriend for long enough to set up his own equipment. All the while, Harry manages to put away several more glasses of straight whisky.

Soon enough, they’re ready to go, the pub having filled up as soon as Ed opened the door, patrons scrambling to find tables and order drinks before Harry and Liam began to play. Harry really doesn’t seem to realize that he has an actual fanbase. These people came to see him play. They’re excited. And Louis isn’t surprised at all. He would be one of them even if he didn’t know Harry. But it’s so classic Harry to not even realize.

Liam speaks to the crowded room first. “Hello, everyone. My name is Liam, and this is Harry. We’ve got some good songs for you tonight. Some you probably know, some you might not. Uh…just a moment,” he chuckles, tuning his guitar. “I was a bit distracted by that gorgeous man right there,” he points to a blushing, smiling Zayn, and Louis nearly vomits on the stage, “and I’m now unprepared to sing to you. It’s all his fault.”

The crowd bursts into laughter and applause. Harry doesn’t look so great. He looks really, really nervous. And that’s just weird. He’s never had stage fright. He’s never looked like this when Louis has seen him play. Liam shuffles over to Harry and leans in close, whispering in his ear. Harry nods, and his look of discomfort turns to one of stony determination.

He won’t look at Louis, standing in front of the stage, in front of the table where Niall and Zayn are sitting comfortably on their tall stools. _Look at me. It’s going to be alright_ , Louis thinks, wishing Harry could hear him.

Liam strums his guitar lightly and dives in, his words coming at a faster tempo than the melody. Louis can’t focus on them, still silently willing Harry to look at him. But then Harry is singing. “At least I got you in my head, in my head. Sleepovers in my bed, oh yeah. At least I got you in my head.”

Louis’ throat feels tight. So this is going to be another one of those nights where Harry sings songs that make him wish he were dead. Cool. Wonderful. Absolutely marvelous. Maybe it’s a good thing Harry is, for whatever reason, refusing to look anywhere near him.

He turns to Niall and Zayn and just starts talking about anything he can think up in the moment. Zayn doesn’t even pretend to listen, wholly mesmerized by Liam. He decides he doesn’t like Zayn. He’s not being very helpful. Okay, that’s not fair. Sure, Louis is having a crisis, but he  _does_  have those all the time, and Zayn  _is_  seeing his boyfriend perform for the first time. But still.

“What’s up?” Niall asks, genuine concern distorting his features.

“I don’t know. Harry’s being weird.”

“Right now?” he asks, his expression turning to one of confusion.

“Yes, Niall,” he deadpans. “And earlier.”

“Oh! After the ‘my Louis’ thing?”

“Can you please be quiet?”

“Sorry, mate. I mean, yeah, I noticed him acting kind of…morose. Just thought it was stage fright or summat.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” Louis huffs. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. He flipped a total one-eighty in like two minutes flat.”

Zayn finally pipes up from across the table. “Louis, look, I don’t know you or Harry. So I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line, but it’s pretty obvious what happened, man.”

And that’s what Louis was afraid of. He knew Harry was freaked out. He tried to fix it, but he couldn’t, and now Harry is going to ignore him all night because that’s apparently both of their go-to moves when anything even slightly uncomfortable happens between them.

Harry’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “This one is called ‘Wild.’” The room fills with discordant whooping and clapping. He doesn’t address his audience any further, offers no charming smiles, no silly jokes, no bright eyes to drown in. He just starts singing, his voice flat. He still sounds beautiful, but the emotion is wrong. Louis can hear it, and some new kind of pain wriggles into his chest cavity, prickles under his skin.

His voice picks up a bit when he moves onto the bridge, “’Cause there’s still too long to the weekend, too long ‘til I drown in your hands, too long since I’ve been a fool.” And then his eyes are finally on Louis, and Louis regrets wishing for that when he sings the chorus of this song that is definitely a love song directly at him, piercing him with his eyes like there is no one else in the room. “Never knew loving could hurt this good, oh, and it drives me wild.”

He turns around, still able to feel Harry’s eyes boring into the back of his skull. “I’m going outside,” he says loudly enough for Niall to hear over the music.

“You need me to—”

“No, I’m fine. Just need some air.” He waves him off and walks toward the door as quickly as he can through the crowd of people focused on the one person he’s trying to get away from.

He glances back at the stage as his hand touches the knob to find Harry’s eyes still glued to him. And he’s still singing. “You make my heart shake, bend, and break, but I can’t turn away, and it’s driving me wild. You’re driving me wild.”

He pulls the door open, slipping out into the cold night. Oxygen is not optional, he reminds himself. He hears Liam announce that he’ll be playing the next one alone, and his heart starts racing so fast, he fears he may actually die outside of his friend’s pub in the pouring rain. He braces himself, pulling his jacket high around his neck, and steps out into the rain, rushing to his car.

“Louis!”

 _No, no, no, no, no._ He walks faster, breaking into a run, only to hear Harry’s feet hitting the wet street behind him at an equal pace.

“Louis, stop!”

He doesn’t understand what’s happening tonight. Everything is so twisted and strange, and he feels as if he’s the only one behaving normally. He doesn’t know why, but his stomach is queasy. He feels scared. Like legitimately scared. He doesn’t want Harry to catch him. He's never felt that way in his life, and he really doesn't know how to handle it.

He gets to his car and unlocks the door, pulling it open only to have it forcefully slammed shut immediately. He turns around, careful not to show any emotion. He doesn’t know how successful he is. Harry’s hand is still on the edge of the door, and he leans into Louis’ space, his breath reeking of whisky.

“You’re drunk,” he chokes out.

“I know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what?”

“Singing those songs.”

“Liam picked them.”

“You and I both know that’s a load of horse shit. Stop lying to me.”

“Excuse me for singing songs I like.”

“You are all over the place tonight! What is wrong with you?!” He knows he shouldn’t say the words dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he’s had a few too many drinks himself since Harry started acting like a child, so fuck it.

“I don’t understand why you keep choosing songs that you know I will relate to you and me, but I’m getting really fookin’ sick of it, Harry!” He raises his hands and pushes forcefully against Harry's chest, but he doesn't budge. "And what was with the staring?! Stop screwing with me! I know what you’re doing, and you’re pissing me off!”

He’s screaming in Harry’s face, and he really doesn’t feel bad about it because Harry is just looking at him as if he’s completely unconcerned.

“What, now you can’t say anything? You know—”

“Louis!” Harry suddenly yells. “Shut the fuck up.”

And then Harry’s lips are crashing against his own. The kiss is far from soft, both of them pushing against each other in a heated frenzy, rain and saliva mixing in their open mouths. Louis grabs Harry’s face pulling him closer, as close as he can get, and spins them around, pressing into him so that his back is against the car, no space between them. Harry’s tongue slips into his mouth, hot and insistent and tasting of alcohol. Louis moves his thigh between Harry’s legs and pushes against him. They’re both panting into each other’s mouths, and Harry suddenly groans at the new source of friction.

Louis breaks the kiss, continuing to press his thigh into Harry’s groin. “How drunk are you?”

Harry holds his breath, visibly shaking from the effort he is making to stand still, to stop the movement of Louis’ leg against his obvious arousal. “I’m not.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, I’m really drunk. But that doesn’t have anything to do—”

Louis forces himself to pull away from the only person he wishes would hold him right now. “I’m going home. Do  _not_  follow me.”

“But Louis—”

“Harry, I swear to God! I am not yours to play with!”

“Louis, for fuck’s sake, would you just wait a minute?!” Harry screams from where he is still standing in front of the back door of the car as Louis climbs into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. He pounds on the glass, and Louis tries his best to ignore how the rhythm matches that of his frantically beating heart.

He’ll text Niall when he gets to his flat. He’ll understand. Someone will give him a ride.

He can’t stay here for one more second, listening to Harry spout out any more of this bullshit. Friends don’t do this. Friends don’t torture their friends on purpose and make out with them when they’re drunk when it means absolutely nothing. He’s so angry. He’s confused and hurt and angry, and his lips are still stinging from the forceful kiss. Tears pool in his eyes, and he’s really tired of crying over Harry.

Whether or not Harry knows Louis is in love with him is not the point. Louis finds himself realizing he doesn’t even care if he does. Whether he knows or not, they have a history, and that should mean something. What he did tonight was cruel, and if there was one single person Louis never thought would hurt him intentionally, it was Harry.

He screams as loudly as he can, covering the sound of the rain hitting the car's exterior. He slams his hands against the steering wheel and lets out screams until they turn to heavy, loud, pathetic sobs.

He pulls onto his street, and jumps out of the car to run to his flat. He lets himself in, stripping his clothes off on the walk to his bedroom, not caring at all that Niall will step on his dripping wet pants when he gets home.

He climbs into his bed, sending Niall a quick text before turning his phone off. Harry is going to call him, he has no doubt, and he would very much like not to speak with him at the moment. He wipes his hands over his swollen eyes and pulls his duvet over his head, surrounding himself with empty, suffocating darkness.

He’d welcome the nightmares tonight. At least those he’s used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deep breaths, everyone. :)


	23. Chapter 23

Harry doesn’t call. It’s been two weeks, and he hasn’t called. There have been no messages, not even one. He hasn’t tried to reach him at all. Louis was wrong in thinking he would wake up on New Year’s Day to a shitload of messages he would listen to angrily, sarcastically mimicking Harry’s stupid, deep voice in the quiet safety of his bedroom. And he realized the moment he turned his phone back on and was hit with twenty texts from Niall and nothing from Harry that he’d actually wanted them.

Louis sits on his couch, bundled up in the warmest clothes he could find digging through his drawers this morning because the heat conveniently decided to go out in his flat in the middle of January. Stacks of paper cover his coffee table as he distractedly works on his lesson plans. It’s only the first week of school and he teaches six-year-olds, so he doesn’t have anything to grade, but he still has to have some kind of plan for the year. He can’t let himself look that inept and disorganized already, no matter how chaotic things are inside his head.

He loves it, he really does. He feels comfortable, sure that he has found his dream job. He gets to play with his kids all day and teach them how to figure out the world around them and watch them grow. He just wishes he could share it with Harry.

He wishes he could tell him about the little girl with auburn curls and bright green eyes who fills his heart with joy every time she laughs. If Harry ever had a daughter, she’d probably look like that, with bright eyes and a brighter smile. He wishes he could call him and hear his laughter on the other end of the line as he listens to Louis’ retelling of “The Mystery of the Missing Puzzle Pieces.” Harry would come up with a clever tagline, speculate wildly as to how that tiny little boy in Louis’ class first discovered he enjoys the taste of painted cardboard. He wishes he could complain about the grumpy, old teacher in the classroom across the hall so Harry could shush him, run his fingers through his hair, most likely sticky with glue or snot or paint, and tell him stupid jokes to take his mind off of it.

But Harry isn’t here. And Louis still can’t figure out exactly how to feel about that. The hurt is still so strong, so tangible. He feels betrayed and vulnerable and angry. But underneath all of that, he misses him. He’ll always miss him. And that hurts even worse.

_{~~~}_

_Louis wakes to a loud crash, or more like a series of crashes, coming from his living room. He groans and throws his duvet from his sleep-warm body, shivering when the cold air touches his skin. Because he was an idiot who apparently, in his anguish, saw no problem with sleeping naked. He pulls on a pair of boxers and a jumper from uni and scrambles out of his bedroom._

_“Niall, what the bloody hell are you doing?”_

_“Oh, mornin’, Tommo!_

_“Not an answer.”_

_“What do ya mean?”_

_“Are you putting on a circus in my flat?! You’re being so damn loud!”_

_“Well, now you’re the one screaming, aren’t ya?”_

_“Oh, fuck off,” he says, turning on his heel to retreat back to his bedroom. He is so not in the mood for this._

_“Louis, come here. Don’t be a wanker.”_

_“Excuse you?” he dares, spinning back to glare at Niall._

_“Sit your arse down right now. We need to talk.”_

_Niall looks like he means business. That can’t be good._

_“Aw, are you breaking up with me?”_

_“Louis William Tomlinson. Sit down!”_

_Louis’ eyes widen, and he slowly makes his way to the couch. He’s never seen him like this. He didn’t even know Niall could yell that loud if it wasn’t from excitement and inebriation._

_“What?” he asks quietly and carefully, his temper rising to the surface as he lowers himself down gently._

_“Do you want to explain to me what happened last night?”_

_“Not really.”_

_“Well, too bad. Start talking.”_

_“Niall, I really don’t want to do this right now.”_

_“Well, I don’t bloody care, mate! I’m so sick and tired of you running around in circles, acting like a total gobshite because you can’t figure out what you want! What. The fuck. Happened? And don’t you dare lie to me.”_

_Louis takes a deep breath, accepting that he isn’t going to be able to get out of this. Niall fixes him with an impervious stare, making it clear that Louis is correct._

_“Um…so the ‘my Louis’ thing?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Okay, well, when I found Harry outside, he was crying. Or it looked like he had been.” Niall nods, waiting patiently for him to continue. “And it was just…he was so embarrassed and disgusted that he had slipped, right? He hated that he called me his so much, got so angry, that he cried, Niall. Am I supposed to be happy about that?”_

_He waits for a response, but Niall doesn’t say a word. “Are you going to say anything?” he whines._

_“No, I’m going to let you finish so that I can tell you how wrong you are about everything all at once.”_

_“I hate you.”_

_“Awesome. Please continue.”_

_Louis rolls his eyes, annoyed as hell. “I tried to comfort him, but he refused to even look at me for an hour and then decided the perfect time to literally stare at me would be while he was up on the stage singing a bloody love song. Whether or not he knows how I feel about him, and I’m starting to suspect that he does, he knows_ me _. And he intentionally keeps playing songs at the pub which he knows I’ll relate to how we used to be or even how we are now. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think that’s very fair. So I left, and the drunk arsehole followed me to my car and screamed at me and put his hands on me, and it meant nothing to him! He was fucking wasted, Niall. The only thing I have wanted for years finally happened, and it was…I didn’t even feel like I was kissing Harry. He was drunk, and he kissed me so hard. He never used to kiss me like that. I don’t know who that was last night, but it wasn’t Harry. It wasn’t my Harry. It meant nothing to him. He’s been screwing with me for months with his stupid songs, keeping me on my toes, keeping me waiting for another chance at a kiss, another soft touch, another fucking glance. And it worked for a while, but I’ve finally figured it out. He knows what he’s doing to me, and he doesn’t care. I’d convinced myself that he was the same, but he’s not. The Harry I grew up with, the Harry who was my best friend, the Harry who I fell in love with would never do what this Harry did last night.”_

_He breathes shakily, hyperaware of all the feelings he just let fall from his mouth and his resulting vulnerability._

_Niall lowers his head and rubs his fingers on his temples, closing his eyes tightly. “You really can’t see it, can you?” Niall asks, bewilderment in his voice. He pierces Louis with a cold stare. “I thought for a while that maybe you were just choosing to ignore it or that the two of you were playing some kind of twisted game, but that’s not it at all. You really don’t see it.”_

_“See what?” Louis asks, feeling lost._

_Niall abruptly stands and grabs his coat from the where it lays draped over the back of the couch. He stuffs his arms through and throws his backpack over his shoulder._

_“What the hell, Niall? Are you leaving?”_

_“Yeah, I’m gonna go.”_

_Louis doesn’t know what to say, torn between hurt and relief that he’s leaving. He follows him to the door, looking down at the floor, shame prickling under his skin._

_Niall crosses over the threshold and turns around, both of them looking at each other in tense silence._

_“You’re a coward,” he sighs, a look of pity on his face. “You’re going to ruin your life if you don’t stop doing this.”_

_Louis just manages to close the door before the tears fall. Because Niall didn’t say anything he doesn’t already know._

{~~~}

It’s April, and Louis is a disaster of a human being. He hasn’t spoken to Harry in three months. Niall has picked up his phone only twice out of the hundred times Louis has tried to ring him. He hasn’t seen Ed or Liam, people he thought were his friends. And okay, that’s not really fair, Louis is the one who isn’t going to the pub, it’s not like he doesn’t know where to find them. But he misses them. He wishes he had gotten more of a chance to get to know Zayn. He wishes nothing had changed. His anxiety skyrockets every time he has to go to the supermarket, pleading with the universe to both see Harry and avoid him. He can’t decide which would be worse. He thought he saw him once, thought he recognized long, wavy hair reaching down a broad back, but it wasn’t him, and Louis has questioned his sanity ever since. He’s hallucinating now. That’s fun.

He told his mum everything, and all she could manage to say was, “Go to him.” As if Louis hadn’t thought of that. As if that were even a possible solution to the problem. Nobody seems to be listening to him.

But he can’t just stay this miserable. He figures it can’t get much worse, so it’s worth a shot. His stomach is queasy the entire way, his mind a jumbled mess of self-hatred and helpful reminders that Harry doesn’t love him. That seems to be the running theme lately. He is still hurt. His heart still sinks when he thinks of that night. But even despite all of that, he just needs Harry. He just wants him back. He can’t stand feeling this far away from him. And that’s just the summary of his life, isn’t it?

He alternates between nearly jogging and walking so slow he might as well be crawling. It is very possible, likely actually, that Harry doesn’t want to see him, much less have a conversation with him, but he has to try.

He slows his pace once again upon nearing the café and the little park across the street. He keeps his eyes on the bench where Harry met him that first day. Harry should be closing the shop soon, so he has a little time to prepare. He doesn’t want to make everything even worse by bothering him at work. It’s going to be unpleasant enough without any added difficulties.

He sits down, placing his palms flat against the wooden slats of the bench, feeling that same connection from so long ago. He remembers those boys playing that day in early November, their shrill laughter ringing in the air as their bodies rolled down the hill over and over again. _Maybe they’ll fall in love someday_ , Louis contemplates. He hopes if they do, it’s a happy love. One that lasts. He hopes those sweet boys are smarter than he was when he was sad and scared and confused. He hopes that if they are so lucky to feel that unadulterated happiness that comes with falling in love with your best friend in the world, they don’t mess it all up.

The air is warm today, heavy with the promise of rain. Louis hates the rain. Everything goes to shit when it rains, his dreams and love and joy washed away to a soundtrack of thunder and flashes of lightning.

He remembers a time when he loved it, though. When he was a kid and his life was falling down around him, he’d climb out onto the roof from his bedroom window and let himself become soaked with cold, clean water. He loved the feel of the droplets landing on his skin, he’d imagine the sound of the impact as if it were magnified and audible. He remembers riding in the backseats of his mum’s and Anne’s cars, Harry sleeping on his shoulder or curled up in his lap if it was a particularly long journey. He’d watch the raindrops race across the windows, tracing their paths with his finger as his favorite boy dreamed. It was almost a longing to touch them through the glass. That nostalgic feeling even with no specific memory. He tries not to think of the days he and Harry would run home from school, heavy spring rains pelting them through their thin jackets, laughing and splashing one another. He tries not to ever think about how their mums would fuss them for bringing mud into the house, how they would hurry to their bedrooms and change into one another’s comfiest jumpers, how Harry would rub his back gently, softly singing, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey.” Louis thinks that if someone asked him what peace felt like, comfort and love and happiness, he would describe those rainy afternoons he spent in Harry’s arms, their feet tangled atop the duvet.

But now it just reminds him of painful nights, of storms that blinded him in more ways than one. He wonders if Harry still loves the rain, hopes it’s not ruined for him, too. He used to get so excited on nights when the rain would pour, quietly hitting the window and the ground below it, as they’d lie down to sleep on top of one another. That silly boy would sometimes become so giggly, it made him so happy, that he couldn’t fall asleep. But Louis didn’t mind it, and he’d drift off anyway to the feeling of Harry’s fingers in his hair and his warm, minty breath against his cheek.

“Hi…”

Louis nearly falls onto the ground, one hand hitting the grass while the other jumps to his chest, clutching his shirt just for something to hold on to. “Oh my God!”

Harry continuously looks back-and-forth between Louis and the ground and the bench and the café and some other thing in the distance, his eyes widened with a combination of nerves and amusement. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was cleaning our…I was cleaning the table by the window and I saw you sitting here. What are you doing?”

“Um,” Louis stutters as he stands, smoothing his shirt, “I wanted to see you. I know that’s unfair. You might not want to see me.”

“I do.”

“Oh. Good.”

Harry nods, his eyebrows lowered over his eyes, little lines wrinkling his forehead. “I miss you.”

Louis’ heartbeat picks up, thrumming against his ribcage even faster than it had when he’d nearly faceplanted into the grass. Harry misses him. Harry misses him! “I miss you, too.”

Harry is fidgeting, nervous and awkward. “I’m uh…I’m sorry. For that night. I don’t want to give you any excuses. I just hope you can forgive me.”

There’s really nothing Louis could say that could express how relieved he feels in this moment, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He takes a few small steps until he can feel the warmth of Harry’s body so close to his and wraps his arms around his neck, resting his cheek against Harry’s. He stills only for a moment before he slides his hands around Louis’ sides and across his back. They hold one another so tightly no light could possibly be passing between their bodies, and Louis feels safe for the first time this year. This is where he’s supposed to be. This is where he belongs. This is his home, standing here in this park in Harry’s arms.

“I’m sorry, too. I’m so sorry, Haz.”

“We’ve got to get this right,” Harry says as he pulls away, dropping his arms from Louis’ waist.

Through the sting of pain that comes from the absence of Harry’s touch, Louis asks, “What do you mean?”

“I never want to lose you again. I have before and I thought I was again, and I don’t ever want to feel that way ever again.”

“You didn’t lose me, curly,” he says as he lightly tousles the hair on the top of Harry’s head.

“Please don’t leave again.”. The pain written on his face is the most horrific thing Louis has ever seen. He did this to him. This is his fault. Harry is hurt, and not just from that kiss. He’s never recovered. At least not fully. He still doesn’t trust that Louis won’t leave again. It’s almost like he expects him to.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, placing his arms around Harry’s neck once more to bring their foreheads together.

“Promise,” Harry whispers.

It’s not a question.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look into Harry’s any longer. He says it with everything inside of him, every thought, every feeling, every memory. With all of the love he has ever had or ever will have for the man standing in his arms right now, breathing shakily, both of them trying not to cry.

“I promise.”


	24. Chapter 24

Louis enters the busy café, his heart in his throat, cutting off his air supply. He spots Harry standing in front of a table on the far wall, chatting amiably with two young women. They look entirely too charmed, and Louis decides he doesn’t much appreciate their Cheshire Cat smiles. He turns toward the counter and finds Liam rearranging the pastry case.

“Hey,” he says distractedly.

“Oh, hey, Louis. Nice to see you, man.”

“You, too.” Liam’s smile is warm, and Louis can’t help but reciprocate, relief flooding his brain to know Liam doesn’t hate him. He’s surely gotten a few earfuls over the past five months. Although, maybe not, based on Harry’s behavior last week.

“You and Harry going somewhere?” he asks, motioning to the bag hanging from Louis’ shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t know where, though,” he chuckles.

“Harry does love surprises.”

“That makes one of us, but I trust him. Anyway, enough about me! How are you and Zayn? I’d assume you’re still being gross in public?”

“Hey,” Liam says in faux offense. “Excuse me for wanting to snog my fit boyfriend whenever and wherever I get the chance.”

“I will not,” Louis laughs.

“You are just as intolerable as Harry. Get out of here. Go on your secret adventure already.”

“What’s this about an adventure?” Harry asks brightly, coming out of nowhere and placing his hand on the small of Louis’ back for too brief a moment.

“I was just telling my friend here that I don’t know where you’re taking me and that I’m quite afraid I’ll never be heard from again.”

“All right, drama queen. Let’s go.” He turns to Liam, “You good, mate?”

“Yep!” Liam chirps. “Have fun, kiddoes.”

They walk out of the café and into the warmth of the sun. “I can’t believe summer is almost here,” Harry says, pushing a pair of sunglasses up his nose. He sounds so happy today. It’s quite an improvement from last weekend.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going or just keep babbling about the weather?”

Harry pushes his palms together in front of his chest, in a meditation pose. “Patience, grasshopper.”

Louis laughs so hard his eyes squeeze shut. “Dork.”

The weather really is quite nice, and they walk in peaceful silence. Louis “accidently” bumps into Harry every once in a while, and Harry retaliates by walking much more quickly than Louis is capable of, his long legs increasing the distance between them until Louis breaks into a jog, only so happy to close the gap. It’s playful, and it feels like before. It feels like what they’ve been trying to get back to.

Louis figures out where they’re headed about ten minutes before they actually arrive, but he stays quiet. He wants Harry to have the satisfaction he always feels when he’s successfully surprised someone. Especially Louis.

They cross the last street before their destination and walk along a path marked only by shoes and the occasional bicycle. They follow a line of paw prints to the place neither of them would ever need a map to find.

“I’m sure Gracie loves picnics,” Louis remarks, letting Harry know that he has indeed figured out his plan.

“We’ll invite her along next time,” Harry says, smiling. “She loves it here.” Louis wishes he could see his eyes. He would bet they’re sparkling right now.

The still water glistens in the sun as they approach their old spot. Harry takes off his sunglasses and sets his duffel on the giant root of the tree long ago claimed by two young boys, stretching his arms above his head. Louis places his bag next to Harry’s and tries not to stare as his shirt rides up, providing a glimpse of the soft skin just below his bellybutton.

“Helloooo, Syreni!” Harry exclaims, throwing his arms out to the side and running to the pond’s edge like a madman. Louis watches, fixed to the ground, smiling as Harry turns back toward him. “C’mon, Lou!”

He apparently moves too slowly because Harry is suddenly running toward him, wrapping his arms around his waist to spin him around in the air. His hands find Harry’s shoulders, and he holds on tightly. “Put me down, you giant animal!” he shrieks. The air is filled with the sounds of laughter and, Louis thinks, of love.

“You must offer sincere apologies to the powerful Syreni for your long absence,” he says in a dramatically deep tone, setting Louis back on the ground. “You have offended the beautiful goddess, and I will not be cursed because of your foolishness.” His hands are still on Louis’ sides. It’s a miracle he heard a word Harry just said.

He pulls away and slips off his shoes before walking determinedly to the water. Harry doesn’t follow him, stays halfway between the pond and the tree against which they had fallen asleep together, exhausted from long summer days spent swimming and wrestling and, eventually, kissing, too many times to count. Thankful he had the good foresight to wear shorts, Louis wades into the cool, clear water, and murmurs, quietly for himself only, “Apologies, Syreni.” The water ripples in response, and he feels peace wash over him from his submerged feet all the way up to the top of his head.

He turns to find Harry’s eyes on his, alive with happiness. Louis says it louder this time, “Apologies, my goddess. I am here to seek forgiveness. Please may I eat near your waters and find shelter in the…uh…in the shade of your leafy…branches?”

Harry laughs loudly, and Louis follows, both of them clutching their stomachs as they double over. When Harry’s laugh has subsided into a quiet giggle, he wipes tears from his eyes and says, “That was a nice attempt. Truly, I am in awe. I don’t know how she could not forgive such a beautiful apology.”

Louis turns around once more to bow solemnly before racing Harry back to the tree, water flicking from his feet every time they leave the ground. Harry pulls a blanket from his duffle and lays it upon the ground. They gorge themselves on the cheese sandwiches Louis managed not to ruin and the fruit and homemade crisps Harry brought from the café. Harry asks about his job, and Louis tries to remember all the little things he had wished he could tell him since January. Louis asks about his family, and Harry assures him that they’re all happy and healthy. Louis shares the story of the day his smallest twin siblings both said their first words. Total nonsense, of course, but still amazing.

When they’ve finished their lunch, they lie back on the blanket with their heads resting on their bags. The sun is filtering through the leaves, painting dapples of light onto their skin and the ground below. Harry is glowing. He’s so beautiful.

“Thanks for coming here with me,” Harry says on a sigh.

“I missed this place.”

“Don’t know how no one has else has ever found it.”

“Shh. You’ll jinx us. Poor Syreni, she would be so sad.”

“We must protect her.”

They both giggle and fall silent once more.

“Hey, Lou?” Harry starts, quieter than before. “Ed’s performing at the pub in a couple of weeks. You want to go with me?”

Louis turns his head and finds a brightness he’s missed in his favorite green eyes. “Yeah.”

“He’s been writing again. I’ve heard a few lines and melodies here and there, and I think he’s really stumbled onto something. We still have to give him a little bit of shit, though,” he laughs.

“Sounds good,” Louis says, smiling again. Or did he ever stop?

They lie together, listening to the sound of the breeze whipping through the trees, rustling the grass around them, blowing over the calm surface of their sacred pond. Louis lets the memories come, remembers the day Harry insisted this place was so perfect it had to be magical. He’d suggested that perhaps a mermaid was quietly swimming below, that the pond was deeper than it seemed so that Syreni, the beautiful, powerful goddess of the hidden pond, could live in peace as silly boys danced in her waters. Louis likes to think now that such a creature would have seen their love and wished to protect it. Then again, how do you save something being destroyed from the inside? She might have kept them from harmful forces, but she couldn’t stop Louis, who turned out to be the greatest threat of all.

He glances at Harry again to find his eyes closed and his chest moving slowly with his relaxed breathing. His eyes land upon the mermaid tattoo on his forearm, and he feels his breath catch in his throat. _Syreni_. He doesn’t know how he didn’t piece it together before today. He thinks again about that night that feels like a lifetime ago, when he had seen Harry’s ship and later felt Harry finding his compass as they’d lain together in his bed. He knows Harry knows, but neither of them have said anything.

How do you even bring that up? _Oh, hey, I saw that we somehow have several matching tattoos that we had done during the five years we never spoke to one another, so that’s weird, and also I’m in love with you, please kiss me?_ Probably not the best idea in the world.

He wishes he could reach down and take Harry’s hand in his own. But then something even better happens. Harry rolls over, laying his head against Louis’ collarbone. Louis’ heart beats sporadically for an indeterminable length of time before finally slowing to meet Harry’s beating rhythmically against the side of Louis’ chest where their skin is touching.

Louis falls asleep trying to fight the urge to remove his hair tie so that he might run his fingers through his long hair, gently working tangles out of Harry’s curls and his own heart.


	25. Chapter 25

Louis rounds the last corner before his destination. Niall is doing that thing again where he leaves Louis in the dust because apparently Liam is his new best mate. He’s got to be inside already because Louis can’t see him and the pub is straight ahead. But he does spot someone else. A tall lad with curly hair and cute dimples and bright green eyes and a tight hold on Louis’ heart.

“Hey, stranger,” Harry says after the two painful minutes, or maybe years, it takes them to reach each other.

“Hey,” Louis replies easily, his arms moving to wrap around Harry. He hugs him back, close and sure and unwavering, and Louis feels the joy in his heart start to spill over, coating the inside of his ribs and covering his lungs, dripping down inside of him.

“Shall we?” Harry asks, letting go of him, gesturing toward the door.

Louis nods and they walk in together, where they’re immediately greeted by the rest of the boys. They grab two pints sitting on the bar and complete their friends’ semicircle.

“What are we talking about?” Louis asks.

“The beach,” Niall responds unhelpfully.

“Did you maybe want to elaborate?” Harry asks, reading Louis’ mind.

“We were talking about planning a beach trip this summer. All six of us,” Liam clarifies. “Louis, when do you get out for summer holiday?”

“Couple of weeks. I’m in. Could definitely use a weekend away.”

“Mate, if we’re going to the beach, we’re going for at least a week,” Zayn chimes in. “Harry has employees other than Li, believe it or not. They can both be gone for that long and the restaurant won’t fall apart. It might actually kill them, but I’m putting my foot down. Both of you work too hard.”

“I don’t actually work that hard,” Liam says, chuckling.

“Then why do I never see you?”

“You see me every day, babe.”

“Oh my God, they’re disgusting,” Harry whispers, his breath tickling Louis’ ear, sparks shooting up his spine at the sensation. He straightens up and says louder, for the group to hear, “This is revolting. And also, Liam is correct, he doesn’t work that hard.”

“Hey!”

Harry laughs jovially. “I’m just joking, calm down. But for real, please stop sticking your tongues down each other’s throats in my presence.”

Louis is still reeling from the zap of electricity that raced through his veins when Harry had come just a little too close, but he manages to stutter out an affirmative, “I can swing it.”

“I’m down,” Niall says. “Shouldn’t be a problem, I’ll just tell my boss about it on Monday.”

“What do you do, Niall?” Zayn asks. Harry, Liam, and Ed all suddenly look confused, glancing between Louis and Niall, for some reason unknown to Louis.

“What?” he questions, suddenly feeling exposed.

“Yeah, what _do_ you do, Niall?” Harry asks. “How do we not know this?”

“Do really none of you know what I do?” Niall asks, bewildered and amused.

Liam looks down at the ground, a puzzled and somewhat frantic expression on his face. “I really don’t.”

Ed laughs and chirps, “This is like that episode of _Friends_ where nobody knew what Chandler’s job was.”

“Seriously, mate,” Liam says. He looks genuinely upset that he doesn’t know this detail about Niall. “What do you do?”

“Well, it’s not exciting enough for all of this mystery, I’ll tell ya that,” Niall responds. “I write for a sports magazine. I’m not a big shot or anything. So I shouldn’t have a problem getting a week off. I can work from wherever most of the time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Harry asks Louis loudly, bumping their shoulders together.

“Uh…didn’t think it was relevant to anything?”

“I don’t know what Zayn does. Why is everyone so focused on me?” Niall levels at them jokingly.

“He’s a graphic designer. He’s good,” Liam answers for him.

“Excuse me, I can speak for myself, mister.”

“I’m just proud of you, Z,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against his boyfriend’s for just a moment, sparing everyone in the room another public snogging session.

Zayn turns back to the group and says, “I’m a graphic designer. I’m good. And my boyfriend is proud of me.”

They all laugh and drink a few more pints each before Ed begins to set up his equipment on the stage, Liam and Zayn start making out in a corner booth, Niall steps outside to make a call, and Louis and Harry are left alone at a table very far from the lovebirds eating each other’s faces off across the room.

“Do you think if the building caught on fire, they would even notice?”

“Probably not. Why are you staring at them, Harold?” Louis laughs quietly, his hand coming up to muffle the sound.

“I don’t know,” Harry giggles. “I can’t help it. I just feel compelled to look.”

“It’s so gross, though!” he hisses.

“I know, but it’s like a car accident. I can’t make myself look away.”

Louis drops his head to his hands sitting on the table and laughs as quietly as he can manage, his body shaking with the effort. When he raises his head back up and meets Harry’s eyes, they both laugh again, tears in their eyes, cheeks beginning to feel sore from their wide smiles. “I can’t take a whole week with them, I’m going to murder at least one of them.”

“I’ll take care of the other,” Harry wheezes, wiping the moisture from his eyes.

“The perfect team,” Louis says when their laughter has subsided.

“I like the sound of that,” Harry says. He’s still smiling, and Louis is very, very happy about that. He was a little nervous about tonight, but it seems like things are going to be okay.

Ed flips on the neon sign outside and opens the door, a loud, excited crowd rushing in, clamoring to claim tables and shouting out drink orders. Harry and Liam are bartending before the show, and Niall will take over while Ed performs. Louis holds their table, chatting casually with Zayn while their boys race by with pint after pint. Liam kisses Zayn every time he passes, and Louis wishes that Harry would do the same. He fucked up any chances of that happening, though, didn’t he? He may have been drunk and doing it for the wrong reasons, but still. Louis’ behavior wasn’t very encouraging of a second attempt.

Finally, Ed strums on his guitar, getting the room’s attention. Harry and Liam keep rushing by them, but Niall is getting ready for his shift behind the bar, so they should be joining them soon. The audience’s shouts and exclamations turn to hushed murmurs as Ed introduces himself unnecessarily and makes small talk as he finishes tuning his instrument. Harry and Liam walk to the table with another round, Liam kissing Zayn, and Harry wiggling his eyebrows at Louis. It’s something.

“Welcome back.”

“Thank you. Just wanted to work on my barkeeping skills. I think I’m quite good.”

“I see that. Thank you,” he says, clinking his glass on Harry’s in cheers.

Ed pipes up, and Louis tears his gaze away from Harry to watch his friend on the stage. “This one’s called ‘Galway Girl.’ It’s a very happy song, so feel free to dance along.” He moves his fingers to the strings of his guitar and starts to play a strong, jolly tune, weaving a tale about a girl in a bar and nights made of love and feeling alive. The crowd claps along after learning the beat, and Niall is losing his shit behind the bar over the Irishness of it all. Louis hears himself giggle, and Harry snaps his head back, a matching smile on his face when he meets Louis’ eyes.

Louis can’t think of a single reason not to ask. “You wanna dance with me?” he yells over the music and the thunderous clapping resounding throughout the room.

Harry nods and takes his hand, pulling him off of his stool and in front of the stage. He doesn’t let go of his hand, just brings it high above their heads and spins Louis around. Louis laughs loudly, unashamed and so, so happy. He skips around Harry while he breaks out his best impression of an Irish jig. It’s God awful. He looks gorgeous. His dimples are as deep as the craters on the moon and his eyes are the brightest shade of green imaginable. Louis finishes his last rotation and crashes into his chest, a little dizzy from the spinning and the overwhelming joy. Everyone in the room is clapping, and for a moment, it feels like it’s all for them. The song ends sharply, and Louis’ world suddenly shifts as he’s lowered toward the floor, Harry holding his weight. He snaps back up as Harry raises his arm, and their teeth nearly clack together as their smiles come close to touching. Louis’ heart might just stop beating altogether.

“Give it up for Harold and Lewis!” Ed exclaims, winking at them from the stage. The pub explodes in applause as Liam and Zayn start whooping and Niall just flat out screams. “Alright, alright,” Ed says, “here we go!”

He starts in on a new tune, funky and fast and fun. Louis doesn’t catch the first verse, too caught up in the way that Harry is suddenly moving against him. Liam and Zayn jump up from their table to join them in front of the stage, Zayn immediately grinding his arse into Liam’s groin.

“Everybody up! Come on!” Harry yells over the music. Ed is really getting into it, a sly grin on his face as the crowd begins to stir, everyone pulling friends and lovers out of their chairs to dance.

Louis throws all caution to the wind and turns around in the small amount of space between where he is pressed against Harry and where Liam is leaning into him from behind. He moves slowly at first as Ed sings, “Every day discovering something brand new, I’m in love with the shape of you.” He’s in love with everything about Harry. His body is definitely one of those things. No doubt about that.

Harry gets the memo and pulls him closer, hot breath hitting Louis’ ear. He shivers, and as Ed sings, “Boy, let’s not talk too much, grab on my waist and put that body on me,” Harry spreads his long fingers over Louis’ hips, digging in just enough to make his skin feel afire. He leans back and rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, raising his hands behind him to tangle in Harry’s hair. His heart is racing, drops of sweat trickling down his abdomen, deep breaths impossible. He’s never felt better. Harry’s hands are gripping him tightly as if he might float away, and honestly, he thinks he might if Harry wasn’t holding him here, keeping him tethered to the ground.

He spins around, and the music stops for just a moment before Ed changes the melody and the electricity in the room. The notes come slower and Ed sings something heartfelt and unintelligible to Louis at the moment because before he can even think to freak out, Harry’s hands find his waist once more. His touch is soft, and Louis can’t help but close his eyes as he pulls him closer. He’s lovely and gentle and silly and romantic, he always has been, and Louis is so in love with him.

“You wanna dance with me?” he whispers, echoing Louis’ words from earlier. Louis nods, his cheek moving against Harry’s before coming to rest on his shoulder, much more innocently this time around. He wraps his arms around his back as he feels Harry’s settle around his neck. They must look strange, they aren’t even really dancing, just hugging and moving slowly to the music. But Louis wouldn’t give it up for anything.

Louis’ heart breaks with Ed’s words, “’Cause we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was. I will not give you up this time.” He doesn’t stop their dance, doesn’t pull away. He’s done leaving. He promised. Tears build up in his eyes until they fall, trickling from the corners as Ed sings the song Louis just realized is the one he has been trying to write all these years, for this beautiful boy holding him tightly and humming his new favorite melody in his ear. Harry’s thumb swipes across his cheek, catching a single tear, and Louis holds him relentlessly, never wants to let him go.

The song fades out and the static in Louis’ head gets louder until he hears the sweetest voice say gently, “Let’s ditch.” He reluctantly releases his hold on him and they head for the door without another word to each other or their friends. Louis doesn’t care. He just wants to stay near him for as long as he can.

As they make their way outside, he ponders all the ways in which he could tell Harry he loves him. Screaming it from a mountaintop, kissing it onto his lips on quiet mornings before they’ve even had breakfast, nuzzling into his neck to whisper the words into his skin when he’s sick and cranky and needy, pressing them into his thighs and writing them on his chest in purple bruises.

He’s pulled from his reverie when Harry suddenly shouts, “Race you!” and takes off running toward God only knows where. And it doesn’t matter. Because Louis would follow him wherever he wanted to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to real-life Ed Sheeran for existing and giving Larries such beautiful songs to work into our fics! See you in September, baby!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and for the comments that make me smile and cry and feel a lot of things about myself and my writing. You're all wonderful, I don't deserve you. <3 Enjoy!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much, just imagine me laughing my evilest laugh for the next ten or so chapters.  
> 

“I’m walking out the door right now, I swear!”

Harry’s shrill laughter comes through the phone lying on Louis’ bed. “You filthy liar!”

“Okay, but I’m almost done! I’ll be there in ten minutes. Now leave me alone so I can finish packing,” Louis says.

“Gracie’s with my mum and the boys are already on their way there, so hurry up. By the way, did you know Niall stayed with Liam and Zayn last night?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Why didn’t he stay with you?”

“Well, apparently Liam is better than me, his best mate, in every conceivable way.”

“That’s not true, Lou.”

“Aw, shucks. You’re making me blush, Harold.”

Harry giggles and says, “Shut up. Okay, hurry up and get over here so we can leave. Don’t want them to have too much fun without us.”

Louis hangs up, shoves one last vest into his bag, and runs to the loo to throw in his toothbrush and some shampoo. He flips off the lights and grabs his keys, swinging open the door to find Harry with a sly smile on his face.

“Couldn’t wait anymore,” he says, crinkles by his eyes.

“Where you standing here when you called me?”

“No, but I got here before you hung up on me. That was rude.”

“Oh hush. Here,” he says, handing his bag over and turning around to lock the door. “Let’s get going! Beach trip!” He runs to Harry’s vehicle, climbing into the passenger seat and honking the horn repeatedly. “Swimming! Sunshine! No school! Woo!”

Harry climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. “You’re going to wear yourself out before we even get there, you loon.”

Louis turns the radio dial way too high, and they sing at the top of their lungs, the sounds of their horrible duets and bright laughter spilling out of the open windows. Louis needed this. They both did. He leans back in his seat, letting the wind blow his hair back and caress his face. He falls asleep inside of a memory of two silly boys playing hide-and-seek all those years ago at the same beach he’s headed for now.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been out when Harry wakes him with a soft touch to his knee and a quiet, “We’re here.” He blinks a few times, adjusting to the bright light surrounding them. They get out of the car and walk around to the front to lean against the hood.

Harry whistles upon inspection of the house they’ll all be sharing for the week. “It’s so nice,” he breathes. “Ed’s really got the hookup, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis remarks distractedly. “Uh…where are the guys? I thought you said they were on their way?”

Harry spins around, looking in every direction for some sign of their friends’ arrival. “Yeah, that’s weird. They should be here by now.”

“I’ll call Niall,” Louis says, taking his phone from the pocket of his shorts and stepping away from the car. The line rings twice before Niall picks up.

“Hey!”

“Niall, where are you, mate?”

“Oh, shit! Ed, stop!”

“Niall? What’s going on?”

“Just having a little car trouble is all. Should be there soon. If Ed doesn’t blow us all up because he thinks he’s a bloody mechanic!”

“Okay, well, Harry and I are here. So…y’know. Chop chop.”

“We’re trying. How’s it look?”

“This place is really nice. I might have to live here.”

“I’ll join ya! Alright, I’ll call you when we’re close.”

“Later,” Louis says, ending the call and returning to the car. “Car trouble,” he says to Harry. “Niall said they’re close.”

“That’s weird.”

“What is?”

“Well, we drove the same way they did. Wouldn’t we have seen them?”

“Huh…yeah, you’re right.”

They look at each other in silence, confusion palpable in the air between them.

“Oh well.” Harry shrugs and grabs his bag from atop the car. “Let’s go swimming.”

Harry finds the key under the mat where it was left for them and pushes the door open. The place is minimalistic and clean but warm and comfortable. Sharp wooden furniture and linen couches the color of sand take up just the right amount of space in the living room, vintage rugs covering the hardwood floors. Harry wanders into the kitchen, complete with a marble-top island, dark brown, windowed cabinets, and cerulean accents to give the room some life.

“This is the most beautiful kitchen I have ever seen,” Harry says, on the verge of tears.

Louis giggles and pops his head into the loo, painted a very subtle seafoam green. A huge clawfoot bathtub sits in the middle of the spacious room, a sheer white curtain hanging from the ceiling. A glass shower stands in the corner, reflected by the wall of mirrors over the row of sinks.

He walks back toward Harry, still gazing in wonderment at cooking utensils. What a dork. “Haz, I never want to leave. This is heaven. You crashed the car on the way here and we died and we’re in heaven. That’s the only possible explanation.”

“I believe you,” he says quietly.

“We’ve got first dibs on bedrooms.”

Harry smiles brightly and races past him toward the hallway. Louis stays on his heels as they bounce around the narrow space, peeking in all of the rooms branching off of it. The first holds a king-sized bed with a white duvet and maroon accents covering the room, from photo frames to pillows to the rug on the floor.

“Liam,” Harry says at the same time Louis says, “Zayn.”

“All right, that’s settled,” Harry chuckles, closing the door. “And what do we have behind door number two?” he announces as if he were the host of a game show.

Louis pats a drumroll on his legs as Harry swings the door open. The room is identical to the one before it except for the coloring. The bed looks like the sky if its colors were inversed, a blank white canvas with puffy blue clouds, and that same deep blue is on the walls and on the floor. 

“Mine!” Harry shouts. “This one’s mine, I want this one. Hope Ed likes blue.”

“You don’t have to fight me, you can have it,” Louis says, holding his hands up in surrender.

Harry tosses his duffel on the bed and whips around, walking to the next room. When he opens the door, Louis nearly gasps. It’s exactly the same as the others, but infinitely more beautiful. Because the color permeating the white in this room is the exact shade of green found in his favorite eyes. Harry walks around to face him, and yep, there they are. He glances back-and-forth between the soft, emerald-colored pillows he will definitely be napping on later and Harry’s wide eyes.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry nearly whispers.

Louis walks gingerly to the bed and sets his bag down.

“I have to change,” he says. “Are you going to watch me, you perv?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“No, it is not!” he says, eyes wide and smile so wide his cheeks are beginning to hurt. “Do you want to go swimming or not?”

Harry laughs and jogs out of the room, taking all of the air with him.

He unzips his bag and opens a drawer, dumping all of his belongings in haphazardly and removing his toiletries. He changes into his favorite hot pink swim shorts and a black vest and skips out into the hallway to knock on Harry’s door. “Come on, slow poke!” he yells as he steps into the loo and places his items on the counter. Harry opens the door as Louis walks back into the hallway, and Louis suddenly has a headache. Because Harry is wearing the smallest yellow shorts he has ever seen in his life. And nothing else. _Fuck_.

He manages to tear his eyes away from Harry’s crotch, but apparently not before he notices. “Stop checking me out, Lou.”

“I am not checking you out! Oh my God!” he exclaims, feeling the blush hit his cheeks hard.

Harry raises an eyebrow in mockery and takes off running toward the front door. It takes Louis a few seconds to regain his composure and his ability to move, but he gets to the door before it closes after what had to have been a mirage of Harry. Nobody could possibly look that good. Upon opening the door and catching the view from behind, he has to admit that it was real. He’s going to have to try really hard not to drool on himself each and every time Harry looks at him today.

He picks up speed and runs in the direction of the beach and his favorite boy, eventually passing him and prompting loud laughter to flow from his gorgeous mouth. He continues to run until his feet hit the water and he falls over with a sudden loss of balance. He can still hear Harry laughing brightly as he gets closer.

“You okay?”

Louis stands, striking a pose of triumph. “I have never been better!” he shouts, raising his arms out to the side and lifting his face, eyes closed, toward the cloudless sky, soaking up all the sun he can. “This is perfect!”

“May I join you?” Harry asks, smiling and gesturing to the water.

Louis doesn’t even want to give him the choice, so he takes a sudden step forward and jumps, hoping Harry will catch him. He closes his eyes and waits for the moment his stomach will drop as his arse lands in the water again, but it doesn’t come. Harry’s hands are wrapped around his back, his previously dry chest pressed against Louis’ clothed, wet torso. With Harry holding him like this, his face is a bit higher, and he looks down for just a moment before tightening his hold around his neck and placing his head against Harry’s, holding on for dear life.

And then he really does have to hold on because Harry runs out into the sea, holding him tight, until their bodies are pulled from one another as the cold water rushes up their chests. Harry dives in and comes up for air seconds later, his hair slicked back in such a ridiculous manner that Louis can’t help laugh.

“What?” Harry asks.

“That’s a cute look. Very dashing. Quiet debonair.”

Harry rolls his eyes and disappears back into the water. Louis is considering diving in himself in order to get the shock over with quickly when his feet are yanked out from under him and he falls backward, splashing hard. He resurfaces with a sly smile and a “How dare you?” spoken just softly enough to send Harry swimming away as fast as he can manage.

“Louis! Lou, no!” They’re both screaming and laughing and hitting the water loudly with their already worn-out limbs. “Louis, I’m sorry, don’t! Don’t do it!”

“It’s too late for mercy now, Hazzah! You’ve crossed the line!”

And Louis didn’t think he would catch him, but he’s suddenly on Harry’s back, and he doesn’t know what to do now. Because Harry just let himself be caught. Like he always used to because he’s always been faster, always been the better swimmer. What does that mean?

Harry turns over so their chests bump against each other as the waves push them closer to the shore in their stillness. He must sense Louis’ impending breakdown because his eyebrows pinch together and he moves just out of reach before asking gently, “Are you hungry?”

Louis scolds himself silently for being the reason Harry is no longer touching him but manages to respond in the affirmative. They wade to the shore and run to the house, kicking up sand as they rush to find towels before venturing into the kitchen for bottles of water and the sandwiches and fruit Harry placed in the refrigerator upon their arrival. Louis flings the water from his hair as Harry pulls his into a ponytail, squeezing the water out to fall to the ground.

“Why are you staring at me so much today?” Harry asks, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out. “Am I that beautiful?”

His face feels like someone just slapped it as hard as they could. _Yeah, you are. I love you._

“I was just…I was looking at your hair. It’s so long.”

“It’s too long, isn’t it?”

“No! No, that’s not…Haz, it’s beautiful.”

And okay…that’s not exactly what he meant to say, but it slipped out of his mouth without even a moment’s hesitation. But he finds he doesn’t regret it when he sees a rosy blush creep onto Harry’s cheeks, his lips twitching in an effort to hide a smile.

“Thanks,” he says, almost bashful.

Louis takes a shaky breath and walks into the house before he accidentally lets something else slip. This is going to be a long week of pretending not to be in love with his best friend.


	27. Chapter 27

They eat their lunch on the porch, sitting cross-legged, their knees touching, gazing out at the sea. Louis somehow simultaneously feels calm and as if something is buzzing right underneath the surface of his skin. Harry returns from the kitchen, and Louis’ heart flips around in his chest cavity in that special way reserved only for Harry.

“We need to go get food.”

“Should we wait for the guys?”

Harry shrugs. “Don’t think it matters. We could check out that little market we passed not too far from here.”

“Harry, I’m not eating only fruit for the whole week.”

“They have vegetables, too. And bread and cheese. I’ve stopped there before.”

Louis squints up at him. “Why?”

“I came here for a few days one summer. Just by myself. Needed to get away, y’know?” He looks out at the sea as if searching for something, and Louis doesn’t say a word, doesn’t want to break the spell. “You want to go now?” he asks, seemingly out of his trance. “If I get in the water again, I’ll never want to leave.”

He extends his hand, and Louis takes it, hoisting himself up. Their clothes are nearly dry by now, but Louis still shivers upon entering the air-conditioned house.

“Might want to grab a jumper, you know you’re going to be cold in the car.”

“I don’t think I even brought any,” Louis says, both endeared and annoyed that Harry knows everything about him. Well, all but one thing. The most important thing.

“You can borrow one of mine,” he says distractedly while looking for his car key.

“Eh…okay. If you really don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t, Lou.”

“You want me to grab one for you?”

He nods without looking at him, and Louis jogs toward Harry’s room, goosebumps prickling his skin for reasons other than the cold. He opens the small closet and runs his fingers over the sleeves of Harry’s jumpers, a strange sense of disappointment running through his veins upon realizing he’s never seen most of them. But then he sees it. The lavender jumper, still just as soft as it was on all those nights he stole it because he needed to feel closer to Harry, needed to smell nothing but him and feel secure and wrapped up in love. There’s no way it even fits him anymore. Louis doesn’t understand why he even owns it anymore, much less why he would bring it here. Unless…unless he knew Louis would be cold and that he would be the horrible packer that he always has been, incapable of bringing warm clothes. Did Harry bring this for him? He surely remembers that it was his favorite. He slips it off of the hanger and over his head and grabs a larger, black garment to bring to Harry. He’s getting ahead of himself here.

Louis’ heart is beating hard and fast, fearing Harry’s reaction, although he doesn’t really know why. The panic rising inside of him is tamped down when Harry smiles, dimples out and crinkles by his eyes. “You look like an Easter egg.”

Louis looks down and sees that Harry’s description is very accurate. Hot pink and light purple, what a sexy combination. He looks like a four-year-old girl.

“Shut it,” he says through a giggle, throwing the other jumper at Harry’s face. “You’re going to look like an adorable little bumblebee, so not much better.”

Harry pulls the material over his eyes and flaps his arms as if they were wings, his smile growing by the second until he looks slightly psychotic. “All right, time to fly! Gotta go get some nectar. Come on!” He turns around and bends his knees just enough for Louis to understand what he wants. He runs toward him, uncontrollable happiness forcing high-pitched giggles out of his throat, and jumps onto his back.

“Ooph!” Harry exclaims, making himself laugh again.

“Oi! I am not heavy! Now onward, my magnificent steed. We must obtain nourishment!”

“What actually is wrong with you? You are such a loser.”

“Get on with it! I will not tolerate lollygagging!”

Harry opens the door and slams it behind them, running as fast as he can to the car with a still-giggly Louis strapped to his back, his arms tightening around his neck.

“We’re not going to get anywhere if you choke me to death,” Harry coughs. He halts by the passenger’s side door and allows Louis to slide off of him.

When they’re both in the car, safety belts buckled, Louis turns up the radio and Harry rolls his eyes. He’s still smiling, and Louis can’t think of anything more important than that.

They sing loudly and totally off-key, watching for any sign of their friends until Harry pulls off the road and parks the car in a field beside the outdoor market. It’s warmer here, even just a few kilometers from the beach, no wind blowing Harry’s waves to match those of the sea.

They enter the tent, Harry’s cloth hipster bags in hand, and are hit with the smell of fresh produce and strong cheeses and warm bread.

“Holy  _God_ ,” Louis exhales. “Smells better than sex in here.”

Harry barks out a surprised laugh and brings his hand up to cover Louis’ mouth. “Can you please be appropriate for once in your life?”

Louis can’t speak with Harry’s hand in the way, so he just shakes his head. Harry’s hand is covering nearly everything but his eyes, and he knows Harry can see them sparkling. He knows he can.

They dub Harry in charge of fruits and vegetables and Louis responsible for bread and cheeses as well as any snacks in the place, which Louis will definitely find. It’s a gift. Louis grabs a loaf to slice for sandwiches and croissants for breakfast as well as some already sliced cheddar and a block of soft brie. Harry’s favorite. He wanders to the back of the tent and finds what he was looking for. A skinny shelf sits in the corner, undisturbed, holding a mountain of sweet treats. Lemon bars and chocolate brownies and sugar cookies and caramel candies. He takes two little baggies of each baked good and a handful of the wrapped candies, smiling deviously just thinking about Harry’s reaction when he sees his haul.

He skips over to Harry who has just placed a rather large basket of berries in his bag and is now rifling through a mound of bananas.

“Louis, look! They have ‘nanas!”

“Probably not enough for you, you silly monkey,” he says, reaching up to tousle Harry’s hair like he’s wanted to all day, not a care in the world how it might look. Harry blushes, and Louis wants to kiss him. Right here in the market in front of twenty strangers while Harry holds a banana and he holds a bag filled with sugar. Instead, he opens his bag just enough for Harry to see inside, and it does the trick. Harry smiles again.

“I see you found the secret stash.”

“Mhm,” he hums, raising an eyebrow and putting on a sly smile.

Harry moves on to the vegetable tables, picking up lettuce and tomatoes and cucumbers for sandwiches.

“Haz, let’s get potatoes. We can fish one day and make chips, yeah?”

“You are greatly overestimating my fish-catching abilities,” he chuckles, already running his finger over the rough surfaces of the spuds.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

“Alright, alright.” He gently drops six potatoes, one for each of them, into his bag. “We’ve got seasonings and a few condiments at the house already, so I think we’re good.”

They pay for their food and head back to the house. They drive in silence this time, the window creating a sort of vortex of sound and emotion. Harry seems extra pensive today, and that’s really saying something.

“You okay, Haz?” he asks, slipping his hand on top of Harry’s resting on the console.

“Huh?” Harry jumps. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Nothing important. Just…I’m really happy you’re here with me.”

Joy pours over Louis’ heart like warm honey. “Me, too, curly.”

“Don’t tell them this, but I’m kind of glad the boys got held up. Gave us some time to just be…well, us. Y’know?”

“Yeah, I know. They’re so fuckin’ loud sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Harry emphasizes with a chuckle.

“All the time,” Louis corrects, matching his boy’s smile.

“We do need to ring them, though. You want to call Niall?”

Louis nods and takes his phone from his pocket. It rings until he is sent to voicemail. He hangs up, and in response to Harry’s quizzical look says, “Didn’t answer. Maybe they got there while we were gone.”

Upon reaching the house and looking around, they discover that is not the case. Louis’ phone rings, and he answers it without looking at the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, bud! Bad news.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“What? Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“So we’re only about twenty minutes from you, but the car is in this rinky-dink shop for the night. We found a motel and a burger place, so we’re just gonna hang here for the night and head out bright and early tomorrow morning when the car is fixed.”

“Niall, we can come pick you guys up. Why would you have to stay in a motel?”

“No!” Liam screams in the background. “Louis, we’re having a good time, mate, don’t worry about us. We’ll see you in the morning!”

The line goes dead before Louis can even ask where they are.

“They’re not coming until tomorrow.”

“Are they all still alive? Because they’re all idiots, so honestly, I’m getting a little concerned.”

“Niall said everyone is fine. Liam yelled at me, so he’s definitely okay.”

“He yelled at you?”

“Yeah, I said we could go pick them up and Liam was like ‘No, we’re having fun!’ It was weird.” Harry laughs at that. “What’s so funny?” Louis asks, giggling along without really understanding the joke.

Harry doesn’t respond, just wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and walks into the house, carrying his and Louis’ bags and shaking his head like he just discovered a delicious secret.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who stays with this story and to all of you who leave me beautiful comments!! You make me so happy I started writing again. <3

“This is the worst sand castle in history.”

“I beg your pardon?” Harry asks incredulously.

“It’s just bad, and you know it.”

“I’m going to give you one chance to properly apologize,” Harry says menacingly, with just a touch of amusement in his voice, giving him away.

“Nope,” Louis says, trying to hold his lips in a straight line but failing miserably.

“You sure you want to do this?”

He can’t help but wonder whether Harry means that in more ways than one. He can sense the impending attack, and it feels like Harry is giving him a choice, like he’d stop playing if Louis said no. Probably because of how he reacted that day in the kitchen when Harry’s lips touched his so gently it hurt or that night he pounced on him just like he is planning to now and Louis screamed at him. But he isn’t doing that anymore. He promised. Maybe he’s a masochist, but all he wants is Harry’s body pinning him down in the sand, his breath ghosting across his cheek, his fingers brushing against his skin. Even as painful as it is.

“Mhm,” he hums, nervous excitement bubbling in his chest limiting his ability to speak.

And then Harry is closer than before, and closer still, until he is hovering over Louis, his hands in the sand beside his head. He says a silent prayer he knows won’t be answered, asking for just one more chance.

He wants to kiss him so badly. Then again, he always wants to kiss him, but the feeling is especially strong today. Maybe it’s the smell of the water warmed by the summer sun. Maybe it’s the memory of this place and the fact that the last time they were here, they kissed behind that boulder that Louis has caught Harry looking at more than once. His need for every next touch, every glance Harry wants to give him is clouding his mind like it did when he was sixteen and he still wasn’t sure that a kiss was the solution. It was then, and it is now. Only now he can’t do anything about it. He ruined that a long time ago.

Harry suddenly drops his weight onto Louis, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

“What the hell was that for?” he wheezes.

Harry chuckles out an apology and tries to move his hands under Louis’ back. Louis helps him, arches up just a bit until he feels his arms cross between his skin and the sand. “Just wanted a hug,” he says quietly before laying his head on Louis’ shoulder.

Louis places one arm under his head and his other hand in Harry’s damp, frizzy curls, combing through a section particularly tangled from the salt water. “We’re going to fall asleep and get sunburned.”

“Don’t care,” Harry mumbles into his neck, sending shocks of pleasure and pain down his spine.

“Harold, I don’t want to be a lobster,” he manages to squeak out. Harry really needs to get off of him soon, or he’ll have to do the thing where he freaks out just so Harry doesn’t realize that he could come in his pants at any moment.

“Ugh, fine,” he relents, standing and brushing sand off of his arms.

The sun is hanging low in the sky, the warm hues a perfect contrast to the gold specks in Harry’s eyes and the auburn tone of his hair.

Louis jumps up and grabs his hand, pulling him toward the sea. Harry goes willingly, a confused smile on his face. “One last dip?”

Harry quickens his pace and drags Louis forward. The cold water relieves his overheated skin, burning from the sun and Harry’s touch. He feels himself relax, his heartbeat slowing to a more sustainable pace.

They wade in peaceful silence and paddle further out and splash one another until the sun disappears and the sky goes dark and even darker. They only towel off and head inside when Harry starts complaining that he might starve.

Louis gets to the door first and opens it, Harry still nearly pressed against him as he had been the entire walk up the beach. “I have sand in my eye, be right back.”

“Okay, I’ll make sammies.”

Louis closes himself off in the bathroom, grateful for a moment of distance in which he can collect his thoughts away from Harry. Who is just really being irresistible today, even more so than usual. Those fucking shorts are going to kill him.

He opens his eyes wide and gently removes his contacts. Even through the blind haze, he can see that his right eye is red with irritation. He opens the drawer he’d claimed earlier and feels around for his glasses and the small container of eye drops he’s very happy he remembered to bring. He lets a bead of moisture fall into both eyes as he looks toward the ceiling and slides his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. After combing his fringe out of his face with his fingers, trying to make it look like a bit less of a disaster, he joins Harry in the kitchen. They’re both still nearly naked, and Louis really wishes he would put on a shirt.

Harry turns and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. He smiles. “Haven’t seen those in a while.”

“Don’t even start. I destroyed my eye.”

“Lou, I’m not picking on you. I always loved your glasses. Always thought they made you look like a sexy genius,” he says unashamedly, winking and making Louis’ insides melt.

“What, so I’m not a sexy genius like ninety-five percent of the time?”

Harry huffs out a pained laugh and raises his head to look straight at Louis rather than the lettuce he’s cutting. “You’re always a genius. And you’re always sexy.”

Louis knows his face must be as red as the tomatoes sitting near the cutting board. “Shut up.”

Harry just subtly shakes his head and finishes preparing their dinner. They sit on opposite sides of the large sofa because Louis can’t think of a reason to sit beside him with all of the extra space. It kind of seems like Harry feels the same.

When they’ve both placed their empty plates on the coffee table, Harry clears his throat. Louis looks at him to find his eyes already boring into him. “Are we going to ignore the tattoos forever?”

Louis blinks, panic rising like bile in his throat, the sound of static growing louder in his ears by the second.

“Louis.”

He nods, breaking their eye contact to look down at his hands. “How many do you have?”

“A lot.”

“How many of them are for me?”

“More than you probably know of already,” Harry says. Louis doesn’t respond, his mind racing with possibilities. “Your turn.”

“Less than you,” he says, nerves rattling his voice. Harry waits for his next confession. Louis takes a deep breath and lets it go slowly. “And not enough of them.”

“When did you get your compass?”

Tears spring to life in Louis’ eyes, and he can’t stop them from falling immediately. “Does it matter?” he sniffles, resolutely staring down at his hands.

Before he even notices his movement, Harry is turning him around and pulling him backward, Louis’ back against his chest. He wraps his arms around him, the ink of his tattoos bleeding onto Louis’ collarbones. At least, that’s what it feels like. Louis wouldn’t mind if Harry stained him permanently. He already has.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, letting his head rest against Harry’s shoulder and bringing his hands up to hold onto Harry’s wrists.

“Why are you sorry?” Harry asks, confusion tinting his voice.

“I don’t know. Just…well, I didn’t know about your ship, so like the compass isn’t really my fault. But I know you saw the other one, and I saw yours, but…I don’t know. I’m just sorry that I got it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Harry disconnects his hands from below Louis’ neck, bringing Louis’ right arm out with his own. He tucks his chin into his shoulder and looks over his body. “How did you get it in my handwriting?”

“It was in a note you wrote for me. Remember that one you left in my locker after my dad left? When I didn’t go to school for a few days?” He feels Harry nod. “I still have all of them.”

“I do, too,” Harry says, bringing their arms back down together to rest on Louis’ chest.

Louis tilts his head to look into Harry’s eyes. “Really?”

“How do you think I got your ‘hi’ just right?”

He lowers his head and lets himself lean further into the strong, soft body behind him. “Why the ship?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know, I just wanted it one day. I already had several, and the idea popped into my head, and it never left. So one day, I just said ‘fuck it’ and went to Steve’s and got it done. But I never really knew why. Until now.”

Louis closes his eyes, too exhausted to say any more. There’s nothing left to say anyway. He hopes Harry will let him sleep here, pressed against his chest. Who needs separate bedrooms when they have a perfectly comfortable sofa? Harry stays quiet and pulls the chain on the lamp, casting the room in darkness. Louis drifts off, tired from swimming against the waves and loving Harry Styles from a distance.

Just before sleep overtakes him, Harry’s voice floats into his mind as if in a dream. “Some kind of magic,” he whispers. Louis feels a thumb slip across the tear tracks on his cheek as he clings dearly to consciousness. “Just wish there was enough.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As my #1 fan that I sometimes refer to as Meg aka my beautiful bi daughter can attest to, I am not feeling particularly confident about these chapters! So if you have any feedback at all, I would LOVE to hear it! Good or bad, just let me know how I'm doing!
> 
> Alright, shit's about to go down in Larry town. Verrryyyyy soon. ;)

Louis wakes from a deep, dreamless sleep, disoriented when he finds himself in a dark, unfamiliar place. He shifts uncomfortably, trying to remember where he is in his delirium, when he feels a sleep-warm body stuck to his back with sweat. Harry’s arm moves from where it has been on Louis’ chest down to his tummy. Harry’s fingers tickle his bare skin, but he doesn’t dare to move. He would stay like this forever if he could, pressed between the back of the sofa and Harry’s chest, their legs tangled across the cushions. Harry’s breath stutters in his ear, and Louis can tell he’s waking up. He slides the bottom of his foot up Harry’s calf, feeling him as much as he can in the time he is allotted while the boy is still in a half-sleep, wishing it could be like this always.

Harry mumbles something that Louis doesn’t understand, language comprehension skills floating out the window at the deep, raspy quality of his voice.

“Hmm?” he hums quietly. How many times could he pretend not to hear him so he would stay just like this, whispering the words into his ear over and over again?

“Time’s it?” Harry groans.

“Don’t know.”

“Still dark.”

“Mhm.”

“We smell bad,” Harry sniffles.

“Too tired.” _Please don’t go._

“Lou, I have to go to bed, my back hurts.”

“Okay.”

Harry squeezes his arm around him tighter for a split second, never long enough, before pulling it out from under Louis’ own and standing up from the sofa, leaving Louis’ back to feel cold and naked against nothing but empty air.

“You want a blanket, babe?”

Louis’ fingers twitch at the word and his eyes flash open. His heart is racing, and he’s definitely awake now.

“No, I’m going to bed, too.” He can’t turn around, can’t look at Harry right now. “Were you going to shower?”

“Yeah, did you want to?”

His sleep-heavy brain misinterprets the question for a moment before he understands that Harry is definitely not asking him if he wants to shower together.

“Was going to, yeah. You can go first. Just wake me up when you’re done.”

“Okay,” Harry says, probably knowing a nod is not sufficient since Louis won’t look at him.

He hears the light switch flip and the door close quietly, and all he wants is to be in that room with him. To wash the sea out of his hair so it smells like apples again and run his hands down his body, pale, soapy skin slippery against his own. Instead he’s on this sofa with a cold back and a suddenly very interested cock and a heart beating wildly from one word uttered out of Harry’s mouth.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, isn’t sure how he did, in fact, with the problematic situation between his legs, but the next thing he is aware of is Harry’s fingers carding through his hair, waking him gently. Louis groans quietly, wishing he was still asleep, not having to deal with the hellish nightmare that is his life until tomorrow.

“Lou, you’re gonna regret it if you don’t clean up and go to bed. Come on.”

He turns over and finds Harry handing over his glasses. No wonder he couldn’t figure out where he was earlier. Harry must have taken them off when he fell asleep. He stands and stretches his sore muscles before walking in the direction of the loo. Harry follows him, and he can feel the tension building in his shoulders until he opens the bathroom door to find a tub full of steaming water waiting for him in the center of the tiled room.

“I, uh…I ran you a bath. I know you used to like them, and it’s a gorgeous tub, and I didn’t know if your, like…thing with hot showers gets worse when you’re tired. So I didn’t want that to happen.”

He feels heat hit his cheeks and is very thankful that the house is dark and the only light in the bathroom is coming from a small lamp in the corner.

“I’m sorry if I’m out of line.”

Louis turns to face him and sighs. Harry looks worried, like Louis could possibly be upset about this. He lifts his palms to both sides of Harry’s face. “Thank you,” he whispers. Harry’s features soften in relief. Louis stands on the tips of his toes, gathering all of his courage and pressing a soft kiss to his cheekbone. “Goodnight.”

He steps away reluctantly and turns to enter the dim room when Harry’s hand catches his arm and pulls him back. He bends down slightly, his arms wrapping all the way around his waist until his hands are on Louis’ sides. Louis stands still in surprise, his arms raised but not touching him as Harry presses his nose to Louis’ temple and breathes him in. Maybe it’s his foggy brain telling him what he wants to hear, but this feels like more than a hug. It feels like a plea. He slides his hands up Harry’s chest and around his neck and tries to understand anything at all.

 _I don’t know what you want, but name it, and it’s yours_ , he thinks, hoping the words will somehow be heard. Harry pulls away and turns toward his room, but not quickly enough to hide the tears falling from his eyes.

“Haz?” Louis calls, his back still tingling from the pressure of Harry’s arms.

“Goodnight, Louis,” he says, closing his bedroom door between them.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, waiting in the hallway for Harry to open the door, to come back. He doesn’t. Louis knew he wouldn’t. But he couldn’t leave this spot, just in case.

He walks in, the tile cold against the bottom of his feet, and closes the door quietly. He places his glasses on the counter, shimmies out of his shorts, and steps into the warm bath. Maybe it just feels that way because of the goosebumps covering his skin, but the water is a perfect temperature. He allows himself to lie back and enjoy the warmth until he feels himself falling asleep again. He slides further into the tub, submerging his head. He comes up for air and his coconut shampoo, creating a foamy lather in his hair, already lightened by the sun, before sinking down again. He washes his face and his tired body with Harry’s minty bath cream he brought for them both, knowing how much Louis loved it when he used it at his apartment. He enjoys the warmth for a few more minutes and climbs out of the tub, drying his hair and shoulders with a fluffy, white towel before wrapping it around his waist. He grabs his shorts from the floor and tiptoes to his bedroom, quietly shutting the door.

He pulls on a pair of sweats and has pulled the duvet back to lie down in the ridiculously soft bed when he realizes his glasses are still in the loo. He typically finds that sight is preferable in the mornings, so he walks back the way he came, deciding he’ll hang his towel up and grab a glass of water anyway.

He opens the door and steps out into the hallway, his blood immediately turning cold, his skin bursting into flames at the sound of Harry’s voice coming from behind his bedroom door. That’s not really what he heard, he’s just tired and imagining—.

“Louis…”

He slumps against the wall as quietly as he can. His legs don’t work anymore. There is no _air_ in this goddamn house.

Another moan, nearly identical to the one he heard before. He definitely didn’t imagine it.

Blood rushes to his cock, a warmth spreading throughout his body, crawling up from his tummy through his chest to his neck. Harry just said his name, he’s sure of it. While doing something that resulted in the prettiest moans Louis has ever heard. He sits on the floor, his legs splayed out before him, his feet nearly touching Harry’s door. He lets his hands rest on the floor beside him as he stares wide-eyed at the door, trying to see through it for any proof that this is really happening.

He brings his knees up and rests his elbows on them, dropping his face to his hands.

There is no way this is real. He’s still sleeping. Shit, he might not even be at the beach. This might all be some delusional fever dream. Maybe he’s dead and this is his own personal Hell.

His head snaps up as Harry’s voice sounds through the door once more, less of a moan and more just a few seconds of heavy breathing and one final gasp until the house is quiet again.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis whispers almost silently, barely audible even to his own ears.

The collection of songs Harry has sung at the pub, seemingly to torture Louis, play through his head all at once, and he closes his eyes tightly, hiding his face in his hands again. He should really get up and go to his room. Harry might come out, and that would be a pretty fucking awful situation. But he can’t move. He can’t think. The only words his mind seems able to grab ahold of are those of his mum and Niall and Anne over the past seven months.

_He loves you, too, baby. He always has._

_They were love songs, Louis!_

_I already know. Your mums are keeping their big mouths shut._

_Your fool is here._

_You really can’t see it, can you?_

Screams are crawling up his throat, begging for release, as the voices get louder and louder. He stands shakily and runs to the front door, closing it behind him as he runs against the wind toward the water. Hysterical shrieks and sobs full of panic and confusion and pain cut through the quiet, disturbing the sound of the waves crashing softly near the shore. He’s hyperventilating, and he knows he needs to calm down. Harry probably isn’t asleep yet, and he cannot come out here. That absolutely cannot happen.

He pulls forward the memory of that night at _Ed’s_ , the night Harry kissed him for real for the first time in over five years. He thinks of the morning of his birthday, how Harry had carried him to bed and hours later moved against him in his sleep. Harry meant to kiss him that morning. It wasn’t an accident. An image filters through his mind of a flu-ridden Harry calling him “baby” in his fever high. He remembers their night together at _Luna_ , so soon after all of this started. The closeness and the tension he has felt more than ever before in the past six weeks. Harry hugging him like that in the hallway tonight, the way his fingers traced over the lines of Louis’ tattoo in exactly the same way he had written it all those years ago.

Harry loves him. Harry is still in love with him.

His brain is short-circuiting, _he loves me, he loves me, he has to love me_ , the only coherent thought in his mind.

“Oh my God,” Louis breathes unevenly, crumbling to the ground, wholly unconcerned about the sand sneaking into his sweats as his feet slide outward toward the sea.

He watches the dark sea until it lightens with the rising sun, formulating a plan. He’s going to tell Harry the truth. All of it. And pray to every deity in existence that Harry really does love him and that he hasn’t just completely lost his fucking mind.


	30. Chapter 30

Louis wakes only a few hours later tangled in a clean, white duvet, his head resting on a pillow of green not nearly as soft as Harry’s eyes. His breath catches in his throat and he tries to remember how to breathe as images from the night before crash over him harder than the waves outside. He made a promise to Harry not to leave anymore, and he can’t stay without saying it. Not anymore. His mind wanders to the length of time he sat on the floor on the other side of Harry’s door last night and listened to him whimper out Louis’ name. He shivers as the memory of that hug that was more than a hug washes over him, his skin tingling where Harry’s arms had held him so tightly, he probably left bruises. He thinks of the tears that had fallen from his bright eyes as he had turned away. Harry loves him. He has to.

He sits up cross-legged and fumbles around until he finds his phone. Anne’s words float through his mind once more. His mum would know. And she wouldn’t lie to him.

“Hello, love,” Jay chirps after a few rings.

“Mum?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is Harry still in love with me?” he blurts out. There is silence, and the urge to throw up crawls up his throat.

“Why are you asking me this?” Jay finally asks.

“Mum, please! I’m with him right now and something happened last night and I think he still loves me and I want to tell him the truth and I’m scared. If you know something, please just tell me.”

His fingers shake around his phone as he waits for her response.

“Baby, calm down. Of course he loves you.”

“No, but…Mum, like is he _in_ love with me?”

“What do you think? After everything you two have been through? Growing up together, falling in love before you were even old enough to understand what that meant, breaking each other’s hearts, finding each other again. I don’t know how you could possibly think that he doesn’t love you. He never stopped loving you, Louis.”

“But how do you know that? Anne said—”

“Anne and I have been telling both of you the same thing since you came back and Harry had a complete breakdown the day he saw you at the café and you ran out without saying a word. I never shared Harry’s words with you just as Anne never shared your words with Harry. Because this wasn’t for anyone to figure out except for the two of you. The only reason I’m telling you now is because you asked me directly and I would never lie to you. Don’t you think you’ve both let too many chances slip through your fingers?”

Tears are falling down his face at an alarming rate, and he can’t wipe them fast enough. His nose leaks and his body is pulled taut as a bowstring, suppressed sobs being swallowed as he shuts his eyes tight and presses the phone against his ear as hard as he can.

“I have to tell him,” he sobs.

“You don’t have to be scared, love.”

“I feel so stupid. And cruel. What is _wrong_ with me?”

“You’re in love. It makes fools of us all.”

“I love you,” he sighs through a tremor racking his entire body.

“I love you more. Now go to him, baby.”

He ends the call and lets the phone fall to the bedsheets. He hides his face in his hands, willing his lungs to work properly again and the tears to stop pouring from his eyes. He takes in four deep breaths, holding them in before exhaling, and wipes his eyes one final time. He prays that Harry is still sleeping behind his closed door as he opens his own, and he finds this to be the case as he quickly steps into the loo.

He examines his face in the mirror, horrified upon discovering two red, swollen eyes staring back at him. He looks like utter shit. His hair is matted in the back and standing straight up on the sides, the front doing some weird cowlick thing. He looks like he’s been crying rather than sleeping for the past five days. He hurries to the shower in the corner of the room and turns on the water. He wants it to burn, but he controls the urge and turns the cold water knob just a hair to the left. He has to do things right today. He drops his pants to the floor and steps in, letting the water run through his hair and down his face. He washes quickly to allow himself time to get his breathing totally under control and to be certain all signs of his meltdown are gone. After putting his contacts back in, he returns to his bedroom, changing into a pair of black swim shorts and a white vest.

He walks out into the bright living room and wanders to the kitchen for a glass of water. On the table is a small blue plate stacked with a toasted croissant and a handful of washed, glistening berries. So Harry is awake. Or he was. Did he go back to sleep?

He walks back to the hallway and knocks on his door, receiving no response. “Haz?” he calls. Three more knocks. “Harry?” he asks, opening the door slowly. “You in here?” He isn’t. The bed is made and there is no beautiful boy beneath the duvet.

He abandons the breakfast he thinks is probably for him and races out the front door. He only has to jog for a few minutes before Harry comes into view, sitting with his chin against his knees, letting the tide wash over his feet and his bum, clad in light pink shorts. They’re longer than his yellow ones from Hell, so…points for Louis’ sanity. His hair is pulled into a bun, loose strands framing his pretty face, and even with the distance, Louis can see his sadness.

“Harry!”

He looks up from the water, his eyes tired and suspiciously red. “Hey.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he retorts, his voice harsh and thick.

“Woah,” Louis exhales, holding his hands up. “Ease off. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, well, I don’t believe that.”

“Well, that’s not really my problem, is it?” Harry says, a touch louder.

Louis flinches at the coldness of his voice, the harsh words, and takes a step back. He feels dizzy, like he was just forced to reconsider everything. This is not the time. He’s going to have to wait to potentially ruin his life later. He can’t do it now, not with Harry acting like this.

“Do you want me to go?”

Harry sighs and brings his hands from his shins to his face for just a moment before he leans back, his fingers pushing through the sand behind him. “No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Did something happen?”

Harry chuckles bitterly, like it hurts to do so. “No, nothing happened. Nothing at all.”

“Okay.” _Don’t push him._ “You going to swim or just let crabs bite your butt all day?”

The corners of Harry’s mouth turn up for the briefest of moments, and Louis feels a smidgen of relief bloom in his chest.

“I’ll swim,” he says quietly.

“You want to go to the shack for dinner tonight?”

Harry nods, moving his eyes from the water to Louis.

“All right, come on weirdo, let’s swim. We don’t have forever.”

He ignores the pain that comes from Harry repeating his last words and running past him, disappearing into the sea.

{~~~}

Louis isn’t sure what Harry’s problem was this morning, but it seems to have left his mind. They swim and make lunch, and Harry grabs a brownie for them to share, tossing little pieces into Louis’ mouth as they sit facing one another in the sand. Louis’ confidence or determination or whatever it is making him need to tell Harry the truth grows stronger by the minute. He decides to wait until after dinner, so that if he is completely off base and Harry never wants to see him again, at least they’ll have had one last day together.

When their limbs ache and their skin feels just a bit too sensitive in the sun, they run back to the house and cover themselves with the towels Harry left on the porch after their lunch.

“Were you going to change?” Harry asks as they stand in the kitchen, drying their hair. “I was thinking I’d just throw on a shirt and go in my shorts.”

“I’ll just grab some sweats. It’s not a nice place, Haz,” he chuckles.

Harry throws his towel at Louis’ head. “I know that, you arse.”

“Oh hush, I’m just kidding,” he says, walking to the living room to retrieve his sweats he had shed beside the sofa the night before. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.”

Harry emerges from his room moments later wearing very ugly sandals and his old Rolling Stones tee. He looks perfect. “Ready?” he asks, grabbing his phone and the house key from the kitchen island.

Louis nods and follows him out the door. As Harry turns to push the key into the lock, Louis suddenly remembers they have other friends. Who still aren’t here.

“Should we leave it open?”

Harry stills, his eyebrows pinched together, and he must be able to read Louis’ thoughts because he asks, “Have you talked to them today?”

“No, have you?”

“No,” he says, pulling his phone from his back pocket. He taps the screen a few times and presses the speaker button, holding the phone out between them as it rings.

“Hello?”

“Liam, what the fuck?” Harry sighs in obvious annoyance.

Louis giggles into his hand, so hopelessly in love. And equally annoyed with their friends.

“Hi, Harry! Hi, Louis!” Zayn pipes in. “Would you believe we went to the wrong beach?” Ed laughs in the background, and Louis tries valiantly not to burst into laughter himself.

“No, I would not believe that,” Harry says in a flat tone.

“Well, believe it, mate,” Niall says cheerily. “Can Louis hear me?”

“Yes, Niall, I can hear you. And I’m not happy.”

“Take me off of speaker, please. I’d like a quick chat with my best mate.”

“Liam’s standing right beside you, you wanker.” Harry’s mouth morphs into a tight-lipped smile at that, his nostrils flaring and his eyes crinkling in his effort not to laugh.

“Louis, I’m not joking.”

At the change in Niall’s voice, Harry hands Louis the phone, and he presses it to his ear. “What’s really going on?” he asks quietly as he walks away from Harry, around the corner of the house.

“I think you know what’s going on. Take advantage of it.”

“I knew you were full of shit. Where are you?”

“And give away my biggest secret?”

“Niall—”

“Tell him the truth, and we will come out of hiding.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. All four of us are sick of your shit, both of you.”

“Well, for your information, Mr. Holier Than Thou, I’m telling him everything tonight,” he whispers. “And depending on how that shit show goes, you might have missed any chance at a beach holiday. With us, anyway.”

“Hey, he’s gonna tell him tonight!” Niall yells, his voice further from the phone.

“Niall, for fuck’s sake. Can you ever just be there for me and not make it into a production?”

“You’re the ones who turned this into such a disaster, not me. We’re celebrating.” Louis hears Liam whoop and holler in the background. “Liam’s excited. Okay, gotta go. Good luck. Call me when it’s done.”

Louis is stuttering out another argument when the phone goes silent and he knows Niall has hung up. What a dick.

“We need new friends,” he says, exasperated, as he saunters back to Harry.

“Aw, Lou,” Harry sing-songs sarcastically as he punches his arm, “I don’t need anyone but you.”

“I’m gonna trade you out, too, if you don’t stop beating me up,” he says, a shaky smile on his face.

Harry laughs and locks the door without another word, and they wander down the beach toward the restaurant, Louis’ heart beating faster than ever before every time Harry’s hand brushes against his own.


	31. Chapter 31

“Remember when you ordered that fish, and it came with the head and everything?” Harry wheezes, laughing so hard his eyes disappear.

“That was so gross,” Louis says, the words coming out in a stutter through his bubbling laughter. “I was scarred for life that day.”

“And your mum just screamed, and the chef came out and was all ‘ _Mon dieu_! What is de problem?’” he continues with the worst French accent Louis has ever heard.

“Well, we know why a French chef was working in a beach-front shack. That was the worst food I’ve ever had. He had to have been like…kicked out of France or something. Excommunicated.”

Harry wipes the tears from his eyes, his smile nearly reaching his ears. “He must be gone, it’s really good tonight.”

Louis spears another hunk of crab and dips it in his garlic sauce before popping it into his mouth. “Quite an improvement.”

Their laughter fades and Harry says quietly, “I’m glad this is the only thing that’s changed. This place is exactly the same as it was when we’d come with our mums. It’s nice.”

Louis looks around the small restaurant and nods upon meeting Harry’s eyes again. “The only differences are your hair and the fact that my meal isn’t vomit-inducing.”

Harry drops his fork, the metal clanking loudly against his plate, as he doubles over in laughter once again. “God, it was so bad!”

Louis smiles at him, just watching. Trying to memorize every line of his face, every freckle, every stray hair, the exact shade of his pink lips.

Harry calms down and gazes at Louis with an intensity rivaling his own stare. Nerves shoot through Louis’ veins, and he can feel the rosiness creep up his neck and onto his cheeks. He drops his gaze and pretends to focus on his food. Harry doesn’t move. Louis can still feel his eyes boring into the top of his head.

“Do you want desert?” Harry asks after what feels like a decade of silence.

He doesn’t. He wants to leave. He wants to get on with this horribly stupid plan he’s concocted that has the potential to destroy everything. He shakes his head, “Do you?”

“Not really. You bought enough sugar to last us the week anyway.”

Louis smiles nervously, unable to be fully present, too worried about what will happen next. Their server comes by and Harry asks for the check. Louis barely notices.

“Trying to solve an equation over there?”

“Huh?” Louis asks, his head snapping up at the sound of Harry’s voice.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know. Life, I guess,” he stutters.

“Deep.”

Louis smiles. Harry can always do that. “Shut up.”

Harry winks at him, and he really hopes he doesn’t regret what he is about to do.

“You want to walk with me?” he asks, his voice shaking only a little. “Burn off the brownie from earlier?”

“Did you expect me to fly back to the house?”

“Oh my God, stop teasing me! You know what I meant.”

“I’ll walk with you, Lou,” he says, that sly smile still on his lips. “You know I love long walks on the beach.”

“I hate you.”

He waits. He makes a bet with himself in the split second it takes for Harry to take in a breath. If he says it, Louis will go through with it. If he doesn’t, he’ll wait until tomorrow. And then he’ll play this game every day, pushing it back until Harry finally says it.

“No, you don’t.”

Okay, so he’s going to do it. Thanks for the push, universe.

He looks directly into Harry’s eyes and tries to say it all with three little words that aren’t the three little words he actually wants to say. “No, I don’t.”

They exit the shack, the light from before gone as they take off their shoes and step outside, making their way down the beach. It’s quiet enough to hear only the slow waves and the sound of their bare feet slipping on the sand. Louis takes in a breath, a random bout of courage prompting him to begin, when Harry suddenly speaks.

“I’m sorry for this morning. I was in a weird mood. I think I had a dream or summat.”

Louis feels dizzy as his brain shifts gears. “That’s alright.”

“It’s not, though. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. Like I don’t want you around. I was just being a twat, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m a big boy, Haz. I’ll be fine,” Louis chuckles. “Just glad you’re happy now.”

Harry stops walking and takes Louis’ hand, enveloping it in his much larger one. Louis wonders if he’ll ever get used to that. If he’ll even have the chance to. “I am,” Harry says. “I am happy. I just…”

“What?” Louis asks, sounding a little too breathless already.

“Sometimes I think you…I just want…” he trails off again.

“Harry…”

He looks like he’s about to throw up. And not because of bad fish. Louis can’t focus on anything but Harry’s thumb rubbing nervously over the back of his hand.

And suddenly it’s gone as Harry turns around and walks slowly back in the direction from which they came, the hand not holding his shoes coming up to run through the top of his hair. And Louis realizes this is the moment he has been waiting for all day. _Now, now, now_! his brain screams as Harry gets further away.

“I love you.” Louis says it as loudly as he can manage despite the panic swelling in his throat.

Harry stops, doesn’t put any more distance between them. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move. It’s like he’s frozen in the sand, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

“I’m in love with you. And I’ve been lying to you since November. Because I have been the whole time.” He pulls in a shaky breath, his heart pounding so hard in his chest. “I loved you when I left, and I loved you when I was in London, and I loved you when I came back. I never stopped.”

Harry finally turns around, his hair blowing around his face, his loose shirt billowing in the wind.

“And I think you love me, too,” he chokes out, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels. “And I hope that’s true. I hope you love me. But even if you don’t, I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t stand it anymore, Harry.” His lungs are on fire with the lack of oxygen being provided to them, and he takes a second to breathe. “Please say something.”

Harry drops his sandals and walks toward him silently, the wind picking up around them, until he stands close enough to touch. Louis’ heart races and his eyes cross as Harry’s face comes closer, and then Harry’s lips are on his and everything just stops.

Nothing matters but the soft pressure of Harry’s mouth on his, his strong hands wandering from the sides of his face down to his neck. He couldn’t say where he is right now, what year it is, his own name. He hears nothing but his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears as Harry’s momentum makes him lean back, no fear of falling with Harry’s hands holding him where he belongs. He lifts his arms to wrap around Harry’s back and pulls him closer. Just as their bodies press together, Harry removes his lips from Louis’. Louis opens his eyes and holds his breath, waiting for all of this to come crashing down around him.

“Are you going to push me away? Or scream at me because you know you want me and it scares you every time I show you that I want you, too? Are you going to leave this time?” he whispers, placing his forehead gently against Louis’.

Louis shakes his head slowly, his nose catching on Harry’s. “I promised.”

“Is this real?” he asks, pleading.

“It’s real,” Louis breathes. “I love you.”

Harry tilts his head and kisses him again. It’s gentle and soft and slow. It feels like a memory. But it’s real. It’s so real. He raises his hands to his face and deepens their kiss, opening his mouth against Harry’s, when he retreats again.

“You silly, beautiful man,” Harry nearly whispers, smiling against the corner of Louis’ mouth. “I love you, too.”

“You love me?” Louis asks on a sigh of relief, of disbelief, of crazy, stupid happiness.

“I’ve loved you since I was ten years old, Lou. Just been waiting for you to stop running away.”

Tears gather in Louis’ eyes and he tries to sniffle out an apology when Harry’s mouth abruptly covers his again, absorbing his words.

“I love you,” Harry breathes, searing the words onto his lips and again on his cheek, his lips soaking up the moisture falling from Louis’ eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis finally says, hiccupping when the words leave his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Haz—”

“Can we do this later?” he interrupts. “I just want to kiss you.”

Louis nods, and Harry’s hands find the dip of his back. He wraps his arms around his body and lifts him, Louis wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips. There are no thoughts in Louis’ mind, all of his fears and all of the pain wiped away by Harry’s kisses and confessions.

He surges forward, smashing their lips together again, and then he hears it. He freezes in Harry’s arms, his breath catching in his throat as it all comes back, all of the doubt and fear and pain and knowledge that he can’t have this, crashing louder than the rippling thunder ever could.

Harry’s eyes flash open as the first drop of rain hits his forehead. He stares at Louis wide-eyed and scared, like he knows exactly what this is doing to him, can hear his thoughts running wild. Louis can’t do anything but look into his eyes, moving from one to the another in agony. He doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to give this up. He wants to keep his promise. But the panic is overwhelming as he catches a flash of lightning out of the corner of his eye and hears the next round of thunder.

“Louis, it’s okay.”

“No, I can’t—” he starts, fear racing through his veins. Rain falls faster from the sky, soaking their faces and Louis’ heart.

“Louis, please don’t do this,” Harry pleads.

“Harry, let me go!” Louis shrieks as he wrestles out of his grip, his feet messily landing on the ground.

The rain falls thicker every second as he runs toward the house nearly blind. He can hear Harry screaming his name, and his voice doesn’t grow further away, so he knows he is following him. Sobs wrack his chest as he tries to reach the house before Harry catches him. He can’t breathe, but he can’t stop running.

Harry doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand that this is a sign. The same sign he got all those years ago, that night in the park. Every single time he lets himself believe he deserves this beautiful boy with pretty curls and green eyes that shine brighter than the moon, he is painfully reminded that he isn’t his and never can be. Harry doesn’t understand that all Louis will ever do is hurt him. He isn’t enough, and this is his reminder of that.

He spins around, and Harry crashes into him, flinging his arms around him, keeping him upright as he falls apart.

“Harry, you don’t get it!” he screams, the sound muffled against the wind and rain.

Harry takes a breath and picks him up again, Louis’ legs coming up to wrap around his back despite every cell of his body screaming in opposition. Harry looks up into Louis’ eyes and cranes his neck, pushing his lips against Louis’ as hard as he can in their position.

Louis exhales and meets his kiss, trembling with the cold and the fear and the feeling of being carried by the one person he loves and hurts the most.

Harry breaks their kiss and nearly growls, “I’m not letting this happen again.” And then he is moving forward, racing through the rain, holding onto Louis as tightly as he can as he trudges through the wet, heavy sand. He drags his fingers up Louis’ spine, bringing his soaked vest up his back, and Louis pulls his lips from Harry’s to allow him to remove it. They crash into one another as soon as the wet material is pulled over his head, and he hears it slap against the ground.

Louis feels his equilibrium shift as Harry steps up onto the porch, his fingers digging into his bare skin. His lips are as insistent as they were that night at the pub. Louis doesn’t fight it this time. Because Harry is stronger than the rain. And Louis can’t resist him anymore. He can’t resist this feeling, the way it feels to kiss Harry and be held by him and be loved by him, this feeling he has tried to tell himself he didn’t need for nearly six years. But he was wrong. He does need it. And Harry needs him, too. Harry loves him. And not even a monsoon could tear him away this time.

They breathe against one another’s skin and press their lips together greedily. “I love you,” Louis pants into Harry’s mouth. “I love you. I love you.”

“I know.” Harry answers breathlessly as he slams the door open and rushes inside. Louis shivers at the burst of cold air against his wet skin but is immediately distracted by the contrasting heat of Harry’s mouth against his neck and the embarrassing noises escaping his own mouth as Harry carries him toward the hallway and into Louis’ bedroom.

Louis’ back meets the cool, crisp duvet as Harry lies down on top of him, looking at him like he is the only thing in the world. The only thing that matters.

“Just breathe, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re safe. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Thunder rolls outside the window above the bed, and this time it’s Harry who freezes, looking warily down at Louis as if waiting for another painful reaction.

“I’m not scared,” Louis whispers, smiling for the first time since that first drop of rain fell from the sky. Harry smiles down at him, and the impossibility of it all makes him feel as if he might float away with such unbridled happiness. “I’m not scared anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for our boys finally figuring their shit out and for Louis getting past his panic attack! That's what that was, if it wasn't obvious. He definitely has a problem with rain. More on that later, though. After all, the name of the story is Petrichor. :)
> 
> Hope you liked this! Can't wait to share more, thanks for staying tuned!


	32. Chapter 32

Harry is everywhere, and Louis has never been this overwhelmed in his life. With the sweetest combination of pleasure and pain in every nerve of his body and in his wildly beating heart. Harry's own is thumping against his chest, Louis' palm moving with his frantic breathing. It's too much.

He moves his hand under Harry’s shirt to press against his broad, muscled back, digging his fingernails into his skin. Harry's breath catches, and he dips in to bite at Louis' neck.

"Harry," Louis whimpers, any embarrassment over sounding so needy overshadowed by the electricity pulsing between them. "Please."

Harry lifts his face and pierces Louis with an intense gaze, his eyes burning with everything he couldn't say before tonight. "I'm right here."

Louis feels his eyes beginning to water again and blinks rapidly at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from falling. But Harry notices. He notices everything. He puts all of his weight on his left arm, bringing his right hand to Louis' face, catching the first tear with his thumb. He leans forward and kisses Louis softly on his eyelid, then his cheek, and then his lips.

"I'm sorry,” Louis whispers.

"No."

"Harry—"

"Don't. You have no reason to be sorry."

He had meant he was sorry for crying for the millionth time. But now he’s painfully aware of all the things he does have to be sorry for.

"Louis.” He looks at Harry through the blur of unshed tears. "I am so, so happy. Are you happy?"

"Yes," Louis says, his voice breaking.

"Then don’t apologize to me anymore."

Louis can't think of a single reason to not be kissing Harry right now, so he lifts his head and connects their lips. He pulls Harry’s old, soaked t-shirt over his head, throwing it to the ground, and pushes him onto his back, placing his palms on the bed hear his head. His curls fan out on the pillow, rainwater soaking through the thin material, and he has never looked this beautiful.

"I love you."

Harry smiles, and it's so bright and so gentle and so honest. "I love you, too,” he whispers.

“Can I just do one more?”

Harry rolls his eyes, but the act is softened by his still-present smile. “I suppose. But then no more. Deal?”

Louis nods and lowers his body to rest atop Harry's, whispering confessions onto his lips interrupted only by eager, soft kisses every time one of them can't resist any longer.

"I think I've always loved you. Since the day I met you. I fell in love with these first," Louis says, twisting a damp curl around his finger. He runs a thumb over Harry's eyelid. "These were next. I didn't know green was my favorite color until I knew you.” He leans down and kisses the beautiful man below him. "Then your lips. And your voice. And the words you spoke that made me believe in love. You gave me hope and peace and joy. Just by loving me, even when I didn't deserve it."

He moves his hand down to Harry's chest and spreads his fingers above his wildly beating heart as far as they will go. "When I realized that this is what I really loved, your beautiful heart, I knew things would never be the same. And it scared me, Haz. I wanted to give you the world. And instead, I ruined everything. So I'm sorry. I'm sorry for running away.”

Louis shushes Harry when he tries to interrupt, placing his finger on his red, kiss-swollen lips. "I'm sorry I haven't kissed you in six years. I don't know who kissed you when I was gone, but I don't care. As long as it's us now."

Harry reaches up to tuck a piece of Louis' fringe behind his ear. "It's just you and me. Nothing else matters. Nothing else ever did, Lou."

He feels like Harry is trying to tell him something, but he's being even more vague than usual. "What does that mean?" he asks breathlessly.

Harry looks away from Louis for the first time since the rain started pouring down on them on the beach.

"Harry?”

He shifts his focus back to Louis and sighs. "I've never been with anyone but you."

"Oh,” Louis pauses, surprise throwing him for a moment. “But we never—”

"I know."

Louis doesn't know what to say. He has a million thoughts in his head, and he can't get out a single word.

"I kissed this girl once. It was awful."

Louis fixes Harry with an expression of confusion and amusement. "Why would you go and do a silly thing like that?"

"I was just trying to get over you. I didn't think you were ever going to come back. Obviously, it didn't work," Harry says through a nervous sort of half-chuckle. "I gave up after that."

"You're the only person I've ever kissed," Louis blurts out as he returns to his knees, hovering over Harry’s body hesitantly.

Harry stills, his eyes widening. "Louis—"

"You're the only person I've ever been in love with. I never found anyone else I wanted to kiss. It's only ever been you."

Louis sees moisture gathering in Harry's eyes. "Never wanted to kiss anyone else," he says as he presses his lips to Harry's. "Or touch anyone else." His hand runs down the side of Harry's long torso. "Or lie with on the couch watching cheesy rom-coms. Or learn to cook for. Or sing Queen with on a stage in front of a room full of strangers." He smiles and feels Harry's lips turn up into a matching grin. "Or make love to," he finishes hopefully and hesitantly, holding his breath.

Harry smiles brightly in the dark, his eyes squinting to produce crinkles beside them, pushing the tears from them so that they run slowly down his rosy cheeks. He starts to giggle, and Louis can’t help but laugh with him, his heart threatening to burst with joy.

“What’s so funny, curly?” he asks as he runs his hand through Harry’s hair.

“I can’t believe this is happening. I feel like I’m in a movie. We’re so ridiculous.”

“Excuse me, how am I ridiculous?” Louis asks through the wide smile splitting his face in half.

“You’re twenty-four years old.”

“Okay?”

“You’re twenty-four years old, and you haven’t kissed anyone since you were eighteen.”

Louis is happy. He’s so, so happy. But now he’s also kind of embarrassed. “Uh…yeah.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up to this hairline, and he squeals, “No, Lou! I’m not making fun of you. I just…I dreamed of this for so long. And I used to think, y’know…that if you came back and by some miracle I was able to get to you again, there would be the complication of discussing our histories. Like with other people. And now we’re here, and I can’t believe it’s even happening at all, and then you tell me that you’ve never been with anyone else. And I haven’t either. It’s just…it’s so ridiculous!” He’s still giggling, and Louis’ face hurts from smiling so much.

“We’re so stupid,” Louis breathes.

Harry removes his hands from Louis’ hips and wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him down on top of him, kissing him like it’s the most important thing he’s done all day. “So fucking stupid.”

Harry kisses him softly, almost carefully, and Louis realizes suddenly that he’s nervous. Neither of them has done this before. They aren’t teenagers anymore, so they’ve passed the point of bad sex being normal or acceptable. He can’t even imagine Harry being less than amazing, he’s so bloody sexy Louis has been in a constant state of being turned on for months. But Louis is as inexperienced as possible, and he doesn’t have that natural…thing Harry has. Charm. Confidence. Whatever it is. _God_ , he’s so sexy.

“Hazzah…” Louis begins, detaching his lips from Harry’s. He has to say it.

Harry nips on Louis’ bottom lip for a few seconds more before murmuring, “Mhm?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Harry suddenly looks terrified, his eyes popping open furiously, and Louis doesn’t know why, but he knows he doesn’t like it.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks cautiously.

“Like…we’re going to have sex, yeah?”

Harry’s face relaxes slightly, an awkward laugh spilling from his mouth. “Shit, I thought you meant being with me. I almost had a heart attack.”

“Can you please answer my question? That’s not a question you can just leave unanswered,” Louis blurts out, his voice shaking with nerves.

“I was pretty sure that’s where this was going. Is that what you want?”

Louis buries his face into Harry’s neck and nods.

“Are you sure about that? You’re acting weird. What’s wrong?”

Louis keeps his lips attached to the dip between Harry’s neck and his shoulder, hiding there while he humiliates himself further. “I might be bad at it,” he mumbles.

“Baby, I can’t hear you.” Harry coos, lifting his hand to Louis’ head, smoothing his hair down from where he had messed it up moments earlier. “What’s going on in here, huh?”

Louis turns his head to lay his cheek on Harry’s shoulder. He looks up into Harry’s eyes that find his immediately. “I said I might be bad at it. And I don’t want to disappoint you. This is embarrassing.”

“That’s not even possible. And besides, we’re in exactly the same position. I’ve never done this before either.”

“But you’re just sexy all the time, Haz!” he whines. “You don’t even have to try. So I know you’re going to be like…a  _sex god_ , and I’m not going to know what to do, and you’re going to hate it and regret all of this.”

Harry abruptly rolls them over, pushing Louis onto his back and raising himself just above his body. “You have no idea, do you? What you do to me?” He lowers himself and presses a kiss to Louis’ neck. “You are so beautiful.” He moves to the other side of his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin before pressing a soothing kiss to the spot Louis knows will be purple by morning. “So gorgeous.”

Harry drags his nose down the column of his throat, and when his hot breath hits his chest, Louis’ body breaks out in goosebumps. His heart is racing, and he’s genuinely afraid it might just stop altogether.

“Love your skin and all of your freckles,” Harry continues. He reaches his hand up to Louis’ face and shifts back up over his body, placing his thumb in the center of the constellation of freckles on his cheek. It’s like all the nerve endings in his body moved to this spot just in the hopes of being touched by Harry. He kisses him, slow and deep, and Louis feels his lungs struggling to keep up the pace.

“Love your mouth. You’re so smart, and I love how you say things. Just normal, everyday things. And I love when you tell me off. Tell me I’m being an arse. You’re always right. I love the way you speak to your sisters and your mum, with so much love. Love how protective you are, how fiercely you would fight for them.”

He kisses him again, and Louis feels like he’s falling, like Harry is the only thing keeping him here. He wraps his arms around his neck and holds on for dear life. “Love how soft your lips are. And how you used to bite me a little bit when you’d kiss me where people wouldn’t be able to see the marks you left.”

“I can do that again,” Louis breathes unsteadily.

“No,” Harry growls. “I want everyone to see what you do to me. Want everyone to know how crazy you make me, how I can’t control myself when you’re touching me or kissing me or lying beside me. Want them to know I’m yours and you’re mine. Want them to know how much I love you.”

Louis’ breath catches in his throat and his eyes flutter closed again when Harry leans closer and whispers in his ear, “Everyone’s going to see how you wrecked me tonight. I’m not gonna hide it. They’re all going to know that I was inside of you, filling you up, baby. They’re gonna see the scratch marks you leave on my back and know I made you scream.” He licks behind his ear, his breath hot and fast. “They’re going to know that you writhed around on me until I came so hard I saw stars. They’re gonna know all of it. Can’t keep my hands off of you, it’ll be so obvious. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Louis wants everything Harry wants to give him. Through the haze surrounding his brain, he realizes it was a question. He knows he’s incapable of producing a coherent sentence, so he just breathes out in a barely-there whisper, “Yes.”

Harry’s mouth leaves his neck only to find his chest once again. His hands travel the length of his torso, running over the small bumps of his ribs and pressing into the sensitive skin on the sides of his stomach. “Love your tummy, always have.” He kisses his belly button and digs his fingertips into his hips. “Love your strong legs. Love how ticklish your feet are. Love your big arse, know you’re gonna feel so good around my cock, baby.”

Louis feels his face flush with embarrassment and is grateful that Harry is so very wonderfully distracted where he can’t see it. “Harry…” he whimpers. He’s so overwhelmed. He’s not falling anymore, but floating, and he needs Harry to bring him back down.

Harry must sense this because he slowly crawls back up the length of Louis’ body and presses their lips together feverishly. “You are so fucking sexy. Don’t you dare think that you aren’t everything I could ever want. You’re all I need. And there is no way you could ever disappoint me like this. You make me so hot even when you’re not doing anything. For fuck’s sake, I had a sex dream and had to go wank in the loo just because you were lying next to me. I don’t even know how many times I’ve touched myself at night, lying in bed, sweaty and hard, imagining it was your hands on me.”

He stops talking, stops kissing Louis between every one of his filthy, life-altering sentences, and just stares. Louis can’t look away, he’d never want to. Harry gently places his hands on either side of Louis’ face, looking at him so seriously it hurts Louis’ heart. “Please never think that you aren’t enough for me. You are _everything_.”

Louis doesn’t know if it was Harry’s plan to make him forget all of his fears so that he would just want to fuck already, but it’s working either way. He’s painfully hard, sparks shooting up his spine every time Harry leans in a little closer and brushes his clothed cock over Louis’ still trapped under two layers of clothing.

Louis has gotten a little of his confidence back, Harry’s words overwhelming and everything he needed to hear. “I love you so much,” he says against Harry’s heated skin.

“We don’t have to do this tonight if you aren’t ready. I would be perfectly content snogging you until the sun comes up, my sunshine.”

Louis lifts his face to connect Harry’s lips with his own, pulling him down to keep him close. “Want you to fuck me.”

He swears Harry’s eyes are sparkling, diamonds sure to start pouring out any moment. He smiles and continues, knowing just how much he’s affecting the boy above him. His dark eyes are betraying his desire, not that he’s trying to hide it. He’s hard against Louis’ own unpleasantly restrained cock. He hasn’t taken a single even breath for as long as Louis.

“Want you inside me. Wanna feel you,” Louis whines. “Please, baby. Harry, please.”

“I’ve got you,” Harry says, kissing him madly for what feels like both seconds and hours before moving out of reach again. Louis tries to pull him back, just wants to never stop kissing him, and Harry chuckles, giving in for another quick peck. “Lou, I’m just getting stuff. It’s in my bag in my room. I’ll be right back.”

Louis relinquishes his hold on him, and Harry leaves after pressing one last kiss to his swollen lips. He sits up in the bed, crossing his legs, and runs both hands through his messy hair. He’s about to have sex with Harry. Harry who he’s been in love with for as long as he can remember.

All of his worries and fears that had piled up throughout the night are gone. All he cares about is getting his hands on his boy again, kissing him silly, showing him how much he adores him, how he craves him every second of every minute of every day. He finds himself smiling uncontrollably and closes his eyes to stop the inevitable tears of joy, wondering quite seriously if he’ll ever be able to stop.

“Hi,” Harry breathes from the doorway.

Louis glances up, his lips still turned up in a smile that probably borders on manic. “Hi.”

“I got stuff.”

“Great. Can you please come over here? I’m really sick of not being under you.”

Harry giggles, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Harry strolls toward the bed leisurely, and Louis wants to attack him. The anticipation is going to kill him, he’s sure of it. Finally, he’s standing by the bed, one thigh brushing against the duvet as he places the supplies on the bedside table. A bottle of lube and a whole pack of condoms.

“We’re both virgins, you really think we’re going to need all of that?”

Harry bursts into laughter when Louis fixes him with a look of amused confusion, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips. “I don’t know! I just wanted to be prepared!”

“So you just knew I was a sure bet? Knew you’d finally get to fuck me this weekend? That the magic of the beach would do me in? Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Louis teases. “I never even stood a chance.”

Harry climbs into his lap, placing his hand on the center of his chest and pushing him into the bed. He leans in close, and Louis thinks he is going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. He just hovers over Louis’ lips, teasing him.

“I didn’t know anything. I just hoped and prayed that something would happen. Just as I have since the day you came into the café and left without even looking at me. I don’t know how, but I knew that day that something was starting again. And then we planned this trip, and the boys so obviously never planned to actually come. They knew, too. What this was. So yeah, I bought condoms and a new thing of lube. In the off chance that I could finally tell you I love you and you’d maybe want to jump my bones. Wanted to be prepared. In case I’d get to make love to you.”

Louis giggles brightly, his heart burning with Harry’s last words. He slaps Harry’s chest, leaving his hand against his skin to feel his heartbeat. “I do want to jump your bones.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows, prompting another round of giggles from him. “And a new thing of lube, huh? What have you been doing all alone late at night, you bad boy?”

“I can show you,” he nearly growls.

Louis nods, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe again. His smile is gone and his eyes flutter closed as Harry kisses him hard, their mouths open and hot.

“Wanna taste every inch of you,” Harry moans.

“You can do anything you want to me,” Louis shutters out as Harry’s mouth finds his right nipple.

He alternates between kissing the small nub and the area around it before dragging his tongue over it in tiny circles. It’s not enough, and Louis arches his back, pushing himself closer to Harry’s perfect mouth. He bites down gently, and Louis can’t help but whimper his name. He moves to the left, repeating his earlier ministrations. Louis holds onto him by his hair, his fingers slipping through his favorite curls.

His shorts, still wet under his sweats, have been uncomfortably tight for way too long, his cock begging for attention, no doubt leaking through the thin material of his shorts. He guides Harry’s face back to his, and Harry moves forward enough for Louis to be able to reach his shorts sitting so dangerously low on his hips. He pushes them down as far as he can manage before growing frustrated and pushing Harry off of him so that he’s lying on his back beside him. He crawls on top of him and finds him smiling, eyes crinkling and dimples out.

“I’m trying to take off your clothes, can you please cooperate?” Louis asks in mock seriousness, eyebrows raised, his smirk giving him away.

“I’m sorry,” he giggles.

“Mhm.” Louis gives him a quick kiss and crawls down his body without breaking eye contact.

“ _God_ , you’re gonna be the death of me, I swear,” Harry whines pathetically. Louis’ heart races a bit faster with his encouragement.

He sits back, straddling his long legs, and slowly pulls the strings on his shorts from the knot Harry tied this morning. When they’re unlaced, he pulls them down, Harry’s cock springing free, hard and wet and flushed at the tip. He pushes his shorts down far enough for Harry to be able to kick them off, and he hears them fall to the floor.

He honestly just wants to be naked, to find some relief for his aching cock, so he slides off of the bed and sheds his sweats and shorts in one motion before climbing back on top of his boy.

“Well, hello there,” Harry chuckles nervously.

“Hey,” Louis grins. “You have a nice dick.”

Harry laughs harder, and his nerves seem to disappear. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”

“Can I blow you?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

“Okay,” Louis shrugs. “I’m gonna blow you.”

Harry is still laughing, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his smile so pretty in the dark. “Are we always going to laugh like this when we have sex?”

 _Always._ Like this is their new forever. “I wouldn’t mind it if we did,” Louis breathes.

Harry’s laughter dies down, but he is still smiling. He fixes his eyes on Louis, and it’s too much. It’s always too much when he looks at him like this. Like he holds all of the secrets of the universe. It’s too much. But he can’t look away.

“I love you,” Harry breathes, shivering when Louis’ hand wraps around him.

Louis smirks devilishly, so high on this feeling, of happiness and desire. “You’re about to love me even more.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is literally all smut, so if you're uncomfortable reading that, I can provide a summary of feelings and confessions and all that, leaving out any explicit material, so you don't miss anything. Please don't hesitate to ask if you need that. :)

Without another word, Louis lowers his head, running his nose along the crease between Harry’s thigh and his groin. Harry breathes loudly and unevenly, whimpering nonsense, as Louis lightly rubs his scruff over the delicate skin of his inner thigh. He flicks his tongue against his leaking head once, twice, just barely making contact with the hottest part of him, before flattening his tongue to lick from the base all the way to the tip. Harry’s back arches, and Louis hears his name being whispered as if it were a prayer. He’s never liked his own name so much, never wants to hear it said in any other way.

He wraps his lips around the head and sinks down slowly, feels the length of his cock slide against his tongue, the width of him stretch his mouth open wider the deeper he takes him. Harry’s hands grip Louis’ hair, but he doesn’t push. He just holds on, filling the room with the most beautiful sounds Louis has ever heard, as he sucks up and down, circling his tongue around the head on every upstroke. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but if Harry’s mewling and the saltiness in Louis’ mouth are anything to go by, he’d guess he’s probably doing okay.

Louis loses himself, loses any ability to keep time, nothing on his mind past the need to make Harry keep making those noises. He’s interrupted by Harry whimpering his name again and pulling his head up and away from his warmth.

“Was that…am I doing it wrong?” he asks quietly.

“What?!” Harry barks out a laugh. “No, you were not doing it wrong.”

“Well, I wasn’t done,” he says, a smile overtaking his hesitant expression from before as he crawls up Harry’s sweaty body.

“Well, I was about to be,” Harry says, lifting his head to press his lips against Louis’, “and I think I remember you saying you want to be fucked tonight.”

Louis can’t do anything but breathe out a shaky “yeah” against Harry’s lips, sucking his tongue into his mouth and swallowing his sounds.

His lips turn up in a smile, Louis responding with a matching grin, and they can’t kiss anymore with their smiles pressed together. Louis opens his eyes and touches his forehead to Harry’s.

“Can’t prep you like this,” Harry says.

“It’s like you aren’t even trying,” he giggles breathlessly.

“Can you lie down on your belly, please?”

Louis kisses him once more on the mouth before moving on to his neck, damp with sweat and drops of rain falling from his drying hair. “In a minute,” he whispers, feeling the shivers escaping Harry’s body when he sucks against his skin. He nips at the spot right below his jawline and soothes the jolt of sweet pain with a slide of his tongue. He spends enough time biting and licking and sucking to know his mark will stay and moves back up to rejoin his lips with Harry’s, swollen and red and gorgeous. His eyes are dark and hazy, and Louis can’t believe he gets to have this.

“Are you satisfied?” Harry asks through a drunk smile.

“Not even close,” he says, kissing him one final time before crawling off of him and lying down on the bed beside him, his arms underneath the pillow he rests his head on. Harry doesn’t waste a moment, rising to his knees and straddling Louis’ bum before Louis even takes a breath. He kisses the back of his neck, right below his hairline, and moves down his spine, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way to his bum.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his nose pressed against Louis’ skin.

“I trust you.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of this,” he says, sinking his teeth into the meat of Louis’ left arse cheek. Louis yelps and pushes his arse into Harry’s hands, now kneading the muscles with his long, perfect fingers, pulling him apart. Any embarrassment he might feel flies out the window when he feels Harry’s breath ghost over his opening, hot and insistent and so, so good.

“I have some idea,” he whimpers, the last word being cut off by a moan at the feeling of Harry’s tongue against him.

He kisses him gently before licking all the way from his balls to the top of his arse, Louis whining and forgetting how to breathe as he moves back and forth. And then his tongue is back where Louis wants it the most, and after countless minutes of teasing, he gets his first taste of having Harry inside of him as his tongue pushes past his rim.

“Baby…ah!” Louis shivers, bucking his arse against Harry’s face.

“You like that?”

Nothing but high-pitched whines escape from Louis’ throat, only getting louder when Harry’s breath is suddenly gone.

“Just getting the lube, love,” Harry coaxes him, keeping one hand spread across his sweat-sticky back as he leans over to retrieve the little bottle from the bedside table. He repositions himself behind Louis, and Louis hears the snick of the bottle being opened. “Tell me what feels good, okay?”

Louis nods, speech having left him long ago. The pad of Harry’s finger lightly grazes his hole as he pours the liquid directly onto his skin. His finger pushes softly, slowly into his body, where his tongue had been only moments earlier. He needs more.

“Harry, please,” he whispers against the pillow, wet with spit.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me, just…come on. Need more. Please.”

Harry listens, pushing his finger inside up to the third knuckle, as far as he can.

“Another.”

He can feel him hesitate, and his heart skips a thought at the realization that Harry thinks of him like this. Like he’s precious and some beautiful thing for him to care for. He knows the feeling. But Harry doesn’t make him wait for long, pulling out only to add another finger as he pushes back in immediately.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, worry in his voice.

“Feels good,” he breathes, lifting himself onto his elbows, turning his head to the side for Harry to hear him. He spreads his legs wider and begs. “Need you. Please, baby.”

Harry moves his fingers in and out, alternating between thrusting into him hard and fast and taking time to spread his fingers inside of him, stretching his muscles carefully. He adds a third and slows his pushes into Louis’ body. The tip of his finger rubs against a spot Louis’ never had touched before, and he shouts, rising up onto his knees, just wants to feel it again. “Oh my God!” he screams, pushing his face into the pillow and shoving his arse in Harry’s face. “What the f-fuck?!”

“Found it,” Harry chuckles, sounding very pleased with himself. Louis is pleased with him, too.

“Oh my God, do that again. Haz, please—”

“Have you seriously never found your spot before?”

“No, and I’m going to murder you if you stop,” Louis pants.

Harry slides his fingers in further and rubs just hard enough to make Louis’ legs spasm against the bed. “Stop teasing me, you arse,” he huffs, grabbing a pillow and throwing it back at Harry’s head, prompting giggles to flow from his pretty mouth. He must take his threat seriously because the next thing he knows, jolts of intense pleasure are rippling up his spine as Harry jams that spot deep inside of him over and over again, his neglected cock leaking precome onto the duvet. He cries out, burying his face in the pillow as Harry works him into a frenzy.

“S-stop! Harry, stop,” he pleads, throwing his arm behind him in search of him. “You have to stop or I’m gonna come.

Harry pulls out of him and wipes his hand on the duvet. “You want—?”

“God, yes, get in me now!” he begs, turning over onto his back and pulling Harry up by his torso. Harry giggles again as Louis tries to kiss him. “Stop laughing and fuck me, for God’s sake, Harry!” he says through laughter of his own.

Harry crashes his lips against Louis’, kissing him like it’s all he needs. Soft and firm at the same time, both patient and hungry. Like if the storm outside his window knocked down the walls around them, he wouldn’t even notice. He pulls back, and Louis follows, never wants to be even this far from him ever again. He rests his head on the pillow and opens his eyes to find Harry looking at him just like he had that night in the park. The air in the room changes, the electricity between them buzzing quietly, slower than it had been before he’d opened his eyes.

“I was going to tell you that I loved you. The night of the storm. The night I left.”

Harry smiles, his brows pinching together as if remembering something bittersweet and long ago. “I know.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you then. But I’m telling you now.”

Harry’s smile grows lighter, the invisible pain wrinkling his forehead seeming to dissipate. “I love you,” he whispers, leaning in once more, his forearms on either side of Louis’ face. He doesn’t kiss him, just presses his nose against Louis’ and breathes him in.

“I’m so in love with you. Have been for so long,” Louis replies weakly, fighting the urge to cry, slipping his fingers into Harry’s hair as he moves to meet his trembling lips.

Harry kisses him for too brief a moment before reaching out toward the table. Louis realizes through his lovesick haze what he’s doing and without much of a thought, grabs his arm, pulling it back.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, confusion and a touch of worry in his voice.

“Nothing. Hey,” he locks eyes with him and pecks him on the lips, “nothing. Seriously. I just…we both haven’t, y’know…been with anyone else. And I’m clean, I had to get tested for the footie team. And I haven’t been with anyone since, obviously.”

“I went with Liam and Zayn for moral support like two months ago. I’m good, too.”

“I don’t…I wanna feel you.”

“It’ll be messy.”

“So you’ll have to clean me up,” he says with a sly smile, running his thumb over the seam of Harry’s lips.

“You are a dirty, dirty boy,” Harry growls, nipping at the tip of his thumb. “Who knew?”

Louis smiles, joy radiating through every nerve in his body. “Only for you, love.”

Harry spreads Louis’ legs and kneels between them, bending in half to press soft kisses up the length of his cock before sitting back on his heels and gently rubbing his thumb over Louis’ hole. “You good? You want to be on your stomach?”

Louis slides his feet up the bed, moving his knees up in the air. He shakes his head, “Want to see you. Need to kiss you.”

Harry takes a deep breath and shuffles closer, the duvet hissing beneath his legs. Louis holds his breath as his head catches on his rim. And then he is pushing in, slowly and smoothly. Harry is big and he knew it would probably hurt a bit at first, but he didn’t expect to like the pain this much. He whimpers out Harry’s name, and he lies down above him, kissing him softly as he stills, waiting for Louis to adjust.

“Is it too much?”

“Just give me a minute.” They kiss as their chests bump together with their chaotic heartbeats and choppy breathing. Harry tells him he loves him for the hundredth time tonight, and Louis still can’t believe this is real. “Move,” he grunts out, the pain suddenly morphing into a pleasurable pressure he needs more of. “I’m good, come on.”

Harry pulls out just slightly before pushing in again, harder and further than the last time. He thrusts a few times, his hands clawing the duvet beside Louis’ head, until he is all the way inside. Louis wraps his legs around his hips, breathing heavily into Harry’s mouth that hasn’t left his since his first push inside.

“You are so beautiful,” Harry groans against his lips, pushing in just a little bit harder each time he pulls back. Louis moves his legs with Harry’s body, digging his heels in in an attempt to get him deeper. Harry hits his prostate again and he yelps, dragging his nails down Harry’s back.

Harry moves faster, slamming into that spot that, when touched, results in Louis making sounds he wasn’t aware he was capable of making before tonight. He opens his eyes, and he swears Harry is staring into his soul. He rocks into him, Louis’ sensitive cock rubbing between their stomachs, leaking all over both of them. Their eyes stay locked as they shudder gasps and sharp bursts of air into one another’s mouths, not enough air in the room to properly breathe, much less kiss.

Louis can vaguely hear noises escaping from his throat over the sounds of Harry’s hips slapping against the back of his thighs and the bedframe whining in protest. He tries to think of something, anything to say, but the only word he knows is Harry’s name.

“Knew you’d be loud,” Harry moans. “Knew you’d lose your mind over this.” His skin so hot, nearly burning Louis’ arms. He moves his hands to Harry’s hair and gathers just enough oxygen to kiss him again. Harry’s hips stutter as Louis gently pulls on a fistful of curls, and he makes a mental note to explore that particular treat a bit more later.

Harry is close, he can tell. He’s thrusting into him hard and deep, his speed sporadic as his hips stutter repeatedly. And then he starts talking. “Gonna come for me, baby?” His voice is high and breathy as he rips his lips from Louis’. He sounds desperate as he presses his body somehow even closer to Louis’, giving him just the right amount of friction he needs on his aching cock. “Dreamt about what you’d look like when you came for me.” He sinks his teeth into Louis’ neck, and Louis’ head falls to the side, giving him all the room he wants to leave his mark as he comes inside of him, crying out so loud the neighbors can probably hear him. He stills his hips for just a moment, and Louis feels his warm release spill as Harry thumbs over the head of his cock and kisses him harder than he has all night. Harry continues his thrusts, the glide wet with his come, and moves his hand over Louis’ cock. “So gorgeous, Lou.”

Louis whines, the heat in his belly growing with every second. His skin is on fire and his lungs gave up long ago. His back arches wickedly, his head pressed into the pillow and his arse pushing back against Harry’s groin, his legs hugging his hips tightly as the tension suddenly snaps loose, and he cries out in the most intense pleasure he’s ever known. Harry holds him as his body shakes and his breathing evens out, and they kiss as well as they can manage in their orgasmic haze.

When Louis has regained consciousness, his sweaty back pressed against the duvet once more, he opens his eyes to find Harry already looking at him. His breath catches in his throat when he notices the tears in his eyes.

“I love you,” Harry whispers, a single tear running down his cheek on its journey to Louis’ nose.

Louis moves his hands from Harry’s hair to the sides of his face and wipes his thumb across his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss. “I love you, too.”

Harry breathes out a laugh, his teeth glistening in the dark. He closes his eyes and more tears fall to Louis’ face.

“I’m gonna drown down here if you don’t stop your crying, love,” he coos, smiling up at the man he knows without a shadow of a doubt is the love of his life.

“Sorry,” he chuckles wetly, “I just love you a lot. Feeling a little overwhelmed, is all.” He leans down for another quick kiss before shuffling back to pull out of him. Louis expects him to come back for more sweet kisses, but he doesn’t, instead gripping his hip and flipping him over onto his stomach.

“Harry, what…ugh, this thing is soaked,” he giggles as his arms hit the wet duvet. “What are you—?” His half-arsed argument is cut short by Harry pulling his cheeks apart, his tongue circling over his entrance, lapping up the mess he made. He whimpers into the pillow until Harry crawls on top of him, kissing down his neck, apparently satisfied with his cleaning job.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he mumbles into the pillow, hiding his smile.

Harry chuckles, “No, I love you.”

His smile grows wider and he turns over, placing his palms against Harry’s cheeks, running his fingers along the curves of his ears. “I love you. I hope you like hearing those words because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop saying them so much.”

“You could say nothing but those three words to me for the rest of our lives, and I would be happy. As long as you were mine.”

“I am yours,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s puffy, swollen lips, tasting the sweetest combination of Harry's come and his own musk when Harry slips his tongue into his mouth lazily.

“Shower in the morning?” he asks. Louis nods.

Harry climbs off of the bed, and Louis’ heart drops like an anvil in his gut. “Where are you going?” he asks in a panic.

“Going to get a flannel, love.” He bends over to press a soft kiss to Louis’ cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s only gone for less than a minute, but it’s too long without him. Louis distracts himself by pushing the duvet down and crawling under the sheets, leaving them around his legs so he doesn’t stain them with the come remaining on his stomach and his chest and his neck that wasn’t already wiped off on the duvet when Harry flipped him over. When Harry returns, his abdomen is wet from the cloth. He folds it in half and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over to gently wipe Louis clean as Louis looks up at him dreamily. He tosses the dirty flannel on top of their discarded clothes and lies down under the sheets, placing his head on Louis’ collarbone. He presses a kiss to his chin and runs his fingers through his sparse chest hair as he maps out all of his freckles.

He watches him blink, watches his lips turn up in a small smile every so often, watches him think as he touches Louis like he’s fragile. He knows he’s going to fall asleep soon and that Harry’s back will kill him if he sleeps like this. “Haz, roll over,” he says quietly. He lifts his hand to run his fingers through his curls, Harry already nearly snoring on his chest. “Haz, baby. Come on, you’re going to hurt your back, love.”

Harry groans and rolls over onto his side, pushing his feet back toward Louis, tangling them further together. Louis lines up behind him as close as he can get, sliding his hand over his hip and up his stomach until it meets Harry’s hand against his chest. His fingers fall between Louis’ own as Louis tucks his nose into Harry’s hair and breathes him in.

He smells like rain and summer and sweat and sex and love. He smells like home. Rain patters against the window above their heads, but any fear from before is gone, overshadowed by the way the moonlight dances across Harry’s skin, making him glow. Harry starts snoring like a damn cartoon character not five minutes later, and Louis giggles, knowing he’d quite enjoy putting up with his snoring for the rest of his life.

“I love you,” he whispers onto Harry’s shoulder as he quietly purrs in his arms. He drifts into a deep, dreamless sleep, his favorite boy breathing softly in his arms, his heartbeat thumping against Louis’ open hand, but not before kissing one final promise onto his pale, heated skin. “I’ll never stop loving you.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for sweet, silly boys in love! Hope you enjoy!

Louis wakes to bright sunlight pouring in through the window, draped across the back of a beautiful boy. His beautiful boy. He smiles, every cell of his body flooded with relief that this is real, and presses his lips to his soft skin once, twice, three times before laying his head back against him. His head moves with Harry’s slow breathing, and he tightens his hold on him just barely, trying not to wake him but needing the closeness. The sun shines on his bare back warming him above where the sheets lay relaxed around both of their hips.

This is the happiest he has ever been. Knowing Harry, he’ll probably think of a way to top it eventually, but it’s hard to imagine ever being happier than he is in this moment.

Louis drifts back to sleep, light and comfortable and peaceful. The next time he wakes it’s to Harry’s lips on his eyelid. He moves on to his cheek, pressing a kiss to his cluster of freckles, and then his ear and then his sleep-sweaty neck. His attempt to pretend to be asleep is shot when he can’t help the smile creeping onto his lips.

“Good morning,” Harry says, his voice deep and raspy and fucking delicious. “I know you’re awake.”

“No, ‘m not,” Louis mumbles, biting into his bottom lip as Harry nibbles on the space between his neck and his shoulder. “This is a dream. I can’t be awake.”

Harry slides forward, nosing his way to Louis’ mouth. He presses his lips to Louis’, sweet and soft and unrushed, like they have all the time in the world. They do now.

Louis opens his eyes and is met with the prettiest green Harry’s eyes have ever been. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, almost unbelieving. Harry’s cheeks turn pink and warm against Louis’ palms. He doesn’t say anything, just kisses him again, making sparks shoot up Louis’ spine in pleasurable surprise. Their mouths open against each other, Louis’ tongue slipping in to tangle with Harry’s.

Harry pulls away. “My breath stinks so bad I can taste it.”

Louis rolls his eyes and smiles. “I kissed you after you had your tongue in my arse last night, do you really think I care about your morning breath?”

Harry somehow blushes even harder. “You wanna go shower?”

“Only if you let me kiss you the whole time.”

Harry seems to get a little of his confidence back. “I have some other ideas actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis chuckles, bringing a smile to Harry’s face. “And what exactly did you have in mind?”

Harry’s hand finds Louis cock, hard since he woke to Harry’s hot breath on his neck. “Are you sore?”

“Well, seeing as I’ve never put anything up my bum before and you had your huge dick lodged in it for half an hour last night, I’d think that would be obvious,” he giggles, bopping Harry’s nose with the tip of his finger.

He thought he’d get a smile or maybe a laugh, but Harry’s face falls, his eyebrows pinching together in worry. His hand leaves Louis’ cock to cradle his face. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“Uh…for what?”

“For hurting you?”

“Harry, you didn’t hurt me. I’m no expert, but like…we had pretty amazing sex last night, and I think this is probably normal. I’m okay, really. Just a little sore, love.” Harry looks down at Louis’ chest, avoiding eye contact. “Hey,” Louis says, seriousness in his voice as he lifts Harry’s face with a finger under his chin, “look at me.” Harry looks up hesitantly. “You didn’t hurt me.” He rises to meet Harry’s lips, pulling him down to lie against him. “Did you not hear the sounds I made from the moment you put your hands on me?” He rolls them over, pinning Harry down against the sheets. “Did you not feel me sweating like crazy, forgetting to breathe? Did you not notice me screaming your name and crying into my pillow? Did you miss the way I came so hard, I shot up against my own neck?”

Harry is squirming just the way Louis wanted him to. He was wound a little too tight for Louis’ liking, but this seemed to help. He nearly pats himself on the back for the achievement.

“You fucked me good, and you’re gonna do it again later, if I have anything to say about it. Don’t ever worry about hurting me.”

Harry flips him back over in a sudden movement, slipping his fingers into Louis’ and pinning the back of his hands to the bed beside his head. “You drive me fucking insane,” he groans, diving in to kiss him again, harder this time.

The kiss grows more heated before winding down again. Louis quickly pecks three brief kisses to his lips and playfully slaps him on the bum. “All right, come on. Shower time, we really do smell.”

Harry chuckles and climbs off of him, standing and stretching his arms high above his head, his tattoos dark against his skin in the morning sun. Louis wants to devour him. He plans to. He leaps out of the bed and slaps his perfect little bum again before running out the door, still open from the night before. Harry barks out a surprised laugh as he breaks into a run, chasing him down the hallway. “You’re going to pay for that, you menace!”

Louis’ shrill laughter cuts through the quiet house as Harry crashes into his back and wraps his arms around him tightly, holding him hostage with his arms crossed under Harry’s as he bites the back of his neck. And it’s a good thing Harry is holding him because his knees buckle and he would certainly have hit the ground otherwise. “What are you gonna do to me?” he breathes, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

Suddenly his feet are no longer touching the ground as Harry swings him around, one arm holding him under his knees as the other wraps around his back. He carries him to the loo and sets him down on the counter. Louis doesn’t let him go far, hooking his legs together behind his bum and placing his elbows on his shoulders, his hands in Harry’s unruly curls. He kisses him deeply until the cold counter starts to hurt his arse. He drops his legs and pushes on Harry’s chest so that he steps away.

“Pretty sure I have other ways of making you come,” Harry says, sashaying over to the glass shower in the corner of the room.

“Is that so?” he challenges, hopping off of the counter and raising an eyebrow as Harry looks back at him as he turns the knobs, water bursting from the showerhead.

“Mhm.” He grabs two towels and places them on the floor near the shower before returning to Louis. “What was it again? ‘Baby, you have to stop or I’ll come?’”

Louis blushes hard and bites at his lip as Harry brings his lips almost close enough for a kiss. “Sounds right,” he breathes. Will there ever be a time when Harry doesn’t make him forget he has lungs? And that he is supposed to use them?

“You are so fucking sexy, I can’t even stand it,” Harry growls before crashing his lips into Louis’. “I don’t know how I survived this long.”

Louis smiles, embarrassed and happy and so in love. He tucks a curl behind Harry’s ear. “Let’s wash your hair, yeah?”

They kiss as the warm water runs over their skin and wash each other’s hair and let their soapy hands explore whatever parts of them weren’t discovered the night before.

“I can’t believe this is real,” Harry sighs into the back of Louis’ head. He’s had one arm wrapped around Louis’ chest while his other pumped his cock infuriatingly slowly for the past twenty minutes. Aftershocks are still shaking his body. So yeah. Louis can relate.

He turns to face him and wraps his arms around his back, reaching up for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. So crazy about you.”

“’M so happy,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s collarbone, dropping his head just to feel him closer. Harry’s hands travel up his back to comb through his wet hair, and they hold each other until the water turns cold. They don’t have to say anything else. They both know what this means.

Harry is it for Louis just as Louis is it for Harry. The world falls away as words like  _forever_  and  _always_  and  _I do_  appear behind Louis’ closed eyes.

They pull on clean pants, and Louis steals one of Harry’s jumpers before sitting down for a breakfast of croissants with brie and berries. Harry’s eyes don’t leave his through the entirety of their meal.

“What do you want to do today?” Louis asks through a mouthful of cheese and juice.

“Kiss you.”

They smile at each other for the thousandth time today, and Louis knows they must look utterly ridiculous.

“What else?”

“Make love to you.” His gaze is intense and unwavering, and Louis feels his skin flush and prickle with goosebumps just like it does every time Harry calls it that. “Don’t even really want to go outside, if I’m being honest.” Harry takes his plate to set on the table and crawls into his lap, breathing in his ear, “Wanna take you apart and put you back together. With my hands and my mouth and my cock. Wanna make you come over and over and over again. Look so gorgeous when you come, baby.” He kisses him, the breath Louis hadn’t realized he was holding leaving his lungs in a shaky exhale at the first press of his lips.

Louis can’t do anything but whimper into his mouth as their tongues glide together in a wet frenzy. Finally, Harry pulls away and rests his forehead against Louis’, his breathing choppy and uneven. Louis finds his voice.

“Wanna snog you in the sea.”

Harry laughs, “Our lips are going to fall off.”

Louis smiles and brings him closer, back where he belongs. “Worth it,” he whispers, closing his eyes and giving him one final peck before they head to the bedrooms to change into their bathing suits.

Louis is pulling on his shorts when Harry grabs him from behind, running his nose along the top of his spine. “Smell so good, Lou.”

“I’m never going to be able to get anything done ever again, am I? For the rest of my life. Because I’ll either be distracted by you touching me or by the thought of you touching me.”

“Been doing it for half a year already,” Harry hums, kissing his clean skin. Louis doesn’t know if he means himself or Louis, but he thinks it probably applies to both of them.

“Go get your stuff.”

“What?” Harry asks, confused by the change in topic.

Louis turns in his arms and places his hands on his smooth chest. “Go get your stuff. Bring it in here. If the boys ever actually join us, Niall and Ed can share your room.”

Harry smiles against his lips. “Why weren’t we sharing a room in the first place?”

“Because I was desperately in love with you and scared to death to be that close to you because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it and I’d confess everything.”

“Happened anyway.”

Louis smirks. “Yeah, but you needed your own room so you could get yourself off thinking of me.”

Harry stills, his face turning so red it’s almost purple. “What?” he chokes out.

“You’re even louder when I’m actually there. Don’t be embarrassed, it was hot.”

Harry whines loudly and kisses him, probably just to get him to stop talking.

Louis giggles into his mouth and pushes him away. “Go.”

“Okay, but just for the record, I am completely humiliated.” He runs to his bedroom, his former bedroom, and gathers all of his belongings, carrying them in a messy heap and throwing the pile on the bed. “Ready?”

They leave the house, hands and hearts entwined, and Harry postpones their swim four times to pick him up and kiss him, spinning them around on the warm sand. Louis escapes his hold and runs to the shore, splashing through the shallow water with Harry on his heels. They dive into deeper waters, refreshingly cold against his skin, overheated by the sun and Harry’s constant attention. Harry pulls him against his chest as they stand, the water at their necks, and Louis wraps his legs around him.

“I love you, you know,” Harry murmurs, a smile splitting his face in two.

“Yeah, Haz,” Louis says, resting his cheek against Harry’s and holding him tight as the water rushes over them and the sun shines brighter than ever before. “I know.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut smut :)

“I do not look like Mick Jagger! Are you insane?” Harry shrieks, laughter bubbling up in his chest, as they step into their newly shared bedroom, skin and hair still damp from their shower. Harry stuffs his pile of clothes into the bag hiding underneath them and drops it on the floor in the corner.

Louis turns around and falls into the center of the bed, exhaustion hitting him all at once upon seeing the fluffy, white duvet, so tempting after a long day in the sun. “Oh, shut up. You know you have that old school, British popstar vibe. Drive me fucking crazy up on that stage.”

“I pissed you off up on that stage.”

“Well, yeah, but I was pissed off because you were driving me crazy and my dick was hard in my jeans. Hence the meltdowns.”

Harry lies down across the bed in the opposite direction of Louis. He plants his elbow into the duvet, his head in his hand, and gazes at him with a sly smile on his face. “It’s not my fault that you pop a boner every time you look at me.” Louis rolls his eyes and pushes himself up, sliding off the bed until his feet hit the floor, and walks toward the closed door. “Where are you going?” Harry asks, his smile audible.

“I’m not having sex with you tonight, so I figured you’d want your privacy, baby Mick,” he says dramatically, trying to hide his shit-eating grin.

Harry laughs and jumps from the bed, reaching out for his arm and spinning him around. His hands come up to Louis’ face as he kisses him tenderly. “Baby, you know I’m gone for you, too. I’m just teasing. Don’t go.”

“I’m still not letting you fuck me. You blew your chance, love,” he whispers against Harry’s lips, his breath catching in his throat at nothing in particular. Just Harry.

“Don’t care. Just wanna be with you.”

Louis pulls away and crawls into bed, determined to stick to his act he knows is riling Harry up, making him want to try harder. “Goodnight,” he sings from under the duvet, hiding his smile.

Darkness washes over the room as Harry flips off the light, and the bed dips behind him as Harry lies down beside him. He presses himself against Louis’ back, tangling their feet at the end of the bed, and Louis lets him. He’s not that good of an actor to pretend he doesn’t want it. If Harry was never more than two feet away ever again for the rest of life, he’d be happy.

“Goodnight, my love,” Harry whispers in his ear. He reaches up to brush the hair from his eyes before lowering his hand back down to his stomach and pulling him even closer.

He doesn’t move or say anything else for several minutes, and Louis starts to worry that maybe he didn’t know he was playing a game. And that’s unfortunate. Because he really wanted to have sex with him tonight. He lies in Harry’s arms in silence, the loud thoughts in his head a contrast to his boy’s quiet breathing against his shoulder, until he can’t stand it any longer. He turns over, laying his head back on Harry’s outstretched arm and waits for him to open his eyes. He doesn’t. Louis clears his throat. Nothing. He huffs out a breath of annoyance at himself for thinking his little charade was a good idea, and Harry’s lips turn up in a smile.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just wondering how long it would take you to cave.”

Louis slaps his chest, only momentarily distracted by his muscles, somehow both hard and soft under his palm. “I am not caving.”

“Then what are you doing? Because I’m trying to sleep.”

Louis’ eyes widen and his lips purse together as Harry closes his eyes again. “Okay, fine! I’m caving! I give up.”

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “and what do you want?”

“For you to fuck me.” Harry’s eyes flash open at that, and Louis smiles triumphantly. “I think you want that, too. Don’t you, love?”

Harry leans over, fixing his mouth to the spot on Louis’ neck he has apparently claimed as his. “There will never be a day I don’t want that.”

“Nice to know you’ll always be a sex fiend. Now…” he purrs, crawling up onto his knees and straddling Harry’s hips, running his finger along the band of his boxers, “about these.”

Harry smiles up at him. “What about them?”

“Get rid of them.”

“You first.”

“I’m waiting,” Louis retorts with a wink.

Harry pulls himself up, his abdominal muscles bunching with his movement, making Louis’ mouth water. He yanks Louis’ pants down to his knees without a moment’s hesitation, his cock springing free as the band catches on his tip. Harry looks at him hungrily as he lies back against the pillow, Louis bending over to follow him, not kissing him but holding his lips so close to Harry’s that their minty breath mixes in the space between them.

Louis kicks his black briefs to the floor, pushing them off the side of the bed awkwardly as their bodies stay hidden beneath the sheets. He moves down Harry’s torso, kissing and sucking and breathing out hot air that makes drops of sweat pop up on his smooth skin. Sitting back on his calves, he slides Harry’s boxers down so slowly, he swears Harry stops breathing. He looks toward him, searching for his eyes as he produces a low, choked-off groan, and is met with a green so dark it is almost black, heavy with desire.

“Louis…”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Baby, please. I’m going crazy over here.”

Louis smirks, so insanely proud of himself every time he works Harry up like this. He guides his boxers down his legs, over his feet, and tosses them to the floor.

“What’s the matter, love?” he coos, crawling up his trembling body. “Did you want something?” He whispers the words in his ear, knowing exactly how hard he is, exactly what he wants.

Harry shivers against Louis’ lips. He’s careful not to touch him, staying on his knees, hovering over him as he squirms beneath the sheets.

Finally, he seems to remember how to speak. “You sure you’re good?”

Louis gives in, lowers himself to rest on top of Harry, kissing him softly. “Just go slow, yeah?” he whispers against his lips, both of their eyes still closed. His voice shakes as his show of confidence is challenged by the thought of Harry touching him and kissing him, pushing into him, connecting them and making them one. He thinks of frantic breaths, names whispered like prayers in the dark. Harry takes in a deep breath, his chest expanding and dropping under Louis, as if he is remembering the same moments, knowing they’re about to happen again.

“Whatever you want,” Harry breathes as he slides his hands up from Louis’ hips, traveling the length of his torso stretched out over his body, up to his face. He kisses him harder, their tongues gliding against each other, the quickening of their hot breaths enough to make Louis feel faint.

Harry rolls them over, trapping Louis under him, the only place he wants to be. Harry picks himself up, his forearms on either side of Louis’ head. “I love you,” they both say, simultaneously. Louis breathes out a laugh, prompting a sweet giggle from Harry, who bends down to capture his mouth in another kiss.

“You are so beautiful,” Harry breathes, his lips moving down his neck. “I swear to God, Lou.”

He feels his face flush with Harry’s praise and tangles his fingers in his curls as he explores his scruffy neck, the sensitive space behind his ear, the dip of his collarbone. His lips are suddenly gone, and Louis’ eyes open to watch him reach toward the bedside table. He’s back almost instantly, his breath ghosting over Louis’ lips. “You’re gonna regret asking me for that,” he whispers, his tone vaguely threatening.

“For what?” Louis asks, totally lost.

Harry just smiles devilishly and uncaps the bottle of lube he grabbed moments earlier. He’s too far away to kiss, but Louis doesn’t mind when he feels a finger gently graze his opening and dip inside. It doesn’t feel like much, just a vague pressure, but then he adds another, moving further inside of him. He spreads his fingers, stretching him out, slicking up his insides. Louis whimpers when he finally adds a third, the burn so sweet and promising of what is to come. Much too soon, Harry pulls out, leaving him empty and needy before positioning himself, his hips against Louis’ arse.

“Haz, please,” he begs, short of breath. “Need you.”

Harry shushes him, both calming him and making his skin burst into flames as he pushes inside. Louis reaches toward him with all of his strength, needing him closer, needing his plush lips against his own, needing to feel his breath on his skin. Harry rocks into him twice, bottoming out, before lying down against him and kissing him sweetly. He holds himself up on his arms, their bodies moving against one another. The friction on Louis’ cock is divine, and he wraps his legs around Harry’s bum as his arms come up to hug his frame. Harry moves slowly, letting Louis feel every moment of the drag of his cock inside of him. He hits his prostrate on a particularly deep thrust, and Louis nearly screams.

Harry continues his slow movement, teasing Louis with the painfully long seconds between thrusts that hit his spot every time. He’s shaking below him, holding on like he might die if there were any distance between them. The air is hot and suffocating under the sheets, and Harry is driving him absolutely mad. He needs more, wants to feel him, wants to see Harry lose his mind over this thing he knows he feels, too. This isn’t just sex. This is everything.

“Faster,” he whimpers. Harry’s lips turn up in a smile as he moves even slower. “Harry, please…harder, baby. Fuck me.”

“Told you you’d regret it,” he replies menacingly, his voice sickeningly sweet. “You asked for slow. I’m giving you slow.”

He pushes in deeper than before and stills for only a moment before grinding his hips against Louis’ arse, the tip of his cock rubbing insistently over his most sensitive bundle of nerves. Louis’ back arches off of the bed, his fingernails leaving red welts across Harry’s back as sounds of ecstasy fill the moonlit room.

Harry pulls out enough for Louis’ body to relax against the bed once again, and he makes an executive decision. His hands move to Harry’s biceps, and he drops his legs, his feet flat against the bed and his knees in the air. Before Harry has time to figure out his plan, he gathers all of his strength and flips him over, straddling him without breaking their bond. Harry’s back hits the bed, a surprised grunt escaping his throat, as the sheet wet with Harry’s sweat falls from Louis’ back to the bed below. Louis opens his mouth against Harry’s, swallowing his sounds as he kisses him brutally.

“You’re going to regret teasing me,” he breathes, his voice suggesting more composure than he actually feels at the moment. He sits back, placing his hands on Harry’s chest as he sinks further down onto his cock. It feels deeper this way, and he moans as Harry’s tip sits firmly against the one place he wants it the most.

Harry presses his fingertips into the skin of his hips, breathing heavily, his eyes never leaving Louis’. “Make me,” he says.

So he does. He lifts up slowly a few times before quickening his pace, bouncing on him as smoothly as he can manage through his pleasurable haze. His own cock, red and angry in neglect, moves with him, painting precome onto his stomach and leaking even more on Harry’s. Before long, Harry starts to lift his hips, meeting Louis with every bounce, the sound of slapping skin louder than their choppy, desperate breathing.

“’M close,” Harry whimpers, no doubt leaving bruises on Louis’ skin with how tight he is holding onto him. He moves one hand to Louis’ cock, pumping him at the speed of his bounces. Louis shudders, his head falling backward and his hands coming up to pull at his own hair. He comes with Harry’s name on his lips, shooting white stickiness up Harry’s chest. Harry groans and throws his head back against the pillow as Louis tightens around him and spills over his fist. “Fuck, Louis!”

Louis moves his hands to hold on to Harry again as he continues to thrust up into him. Every nerve in his body is screaming, vibrating against his bones in oversensitivity. “Let go, baby,” he chokes out, bending over to press his lips to Harry’s. He bites down on Louis’ lower lip before flicking his tongue out over the swollen surface and slipping it into Louis’ mouth, hot and insistent. “Come for me, Haz,” he breathes.

Harry obeys, lifting his body to bury himself as deep as possible as he comes inside of him, moving his hands to Louis’ messy hair and breathing heavily against his skin. He moans loudly at the peak of his orgasm, and Louis kisses him, swallowing all of his tiny sounds during the aftershocks.

When they’ve both caught their breath and Harry’s whimpers turn to giggles which make Louis laugh in turn, he rises to his knees, letting Harry slip out of him. He hisses at the sudden emptiness and groans against his lips as he feels his come drip down the inside of his thigh. He flattens himself on top of Harry, not at all concerned about the mess between them, and they breathe together quietly as Harry runs his fingers along the length of his spine.

“I love you,” Louis says, resting his chin on his hands against Harry’s chest.

Harry gazes down at him, the moonlight shining in his eyes like a promise. He smiles. “I love you, too.”

Louis lays his head down against his sternum and listens to the slow beat of Harry’s heart. “I’m going to be sorry in the morning, but I really don’t care about cleaning up right now.”

Harry chuckles, and Louis’ lips turn up in a smile against his warm skin. His toes tickle the sides of Louis’ feet, and he fidgets, digging his fingers into Harry’s side in retaliation. Harry’s laugh grows louder as he rolls them over, burying his face in Louis’ neck as his hands pin Louis’ to the sheets.

“That’s enough from you, little one.”

Louis giggles, the high-pitched sound disturbing the quiet of their room. “Little one?”

Harry’s eyes find his before Louis’ close as he presses innocent, gentle kisses to his cheeks and his nose and his lips. “Pretty little one. Love you so much.”

“You’re so weird,” Louis breathes.

“I’m in love.”

Harry is just looking at him like he’ll never stop. Like he’d stay here forever, their bodies withering away into dust as he stares into his eyes, green reflecting blue.

“Mum says love turns us into fools.”

Harry hums thoughtfully and slides off of him. Louis rolls over onto his side as Harry moves against him, pressing their bodies together as if to sync their breathing, have their hearts beat as one muscle, giving life to both of them.

Harry falls asleep, his lips brushing against Louis’ shoulder as his hand ceases its slow circles in his chest hair. A single tear falls from Louis’ tired eyes as Harry’s last words etch themselves on the backs of his eyelids.

“Then I guess I’m the biggest fool of all.”


	36. Chapter 36

Sunlight pours into the room, waking Louis in its brilliance. His first thought is Harry’s name, his second that he can’t feel him pressed against his back, where he was when they fell asleep. He turns over, squinting in the bright light reflected by the white duvet pulled over his body, and finds empty space. His heart beats heavily in his chest as he stares at the crumpled sheets where Harry had lain. He sits upright, crossing his legs, and rests his hand upon the bed, hoping for lingering warmth to indicate Harry hasn’t been gone for long. The sheets are cool against his skin.

Terrifying, painful thoughts race through his mind, louder than the deafening silence of the room, empty of morning kisses and hushed whispers, of _I love you_ and quiet promises pressed to warm skin and lips puffy from sleep.

_You couldn’t have this forever. What were you thinking? You actually let yourself believe this was real? Are you crazy?_

He presses his suddenly sweaty palms against his eyes, begging his tears not to fall.

 _Please, God, no. Please. Let it be real_ , he prays.

He holds his breath, trying not to scream as images of Harry crashing through the front door and running toward the water or getting in the car and driving away play over and over behind his watery eyes. It’s not that Harry is cruel. He’s just realized it’s not worth it. Louis isn’t worth it. A tear falls from each of his eyes, hitting the duvet with soft thuds. The duvet stained with the proof of a love Harry doesn’t want.

He grits his teeth, holding in violent sobs as the tears slip from his tightly closed eyes and onto the bed below. His face feels tight, his lungs sore, as he holds his head in his hands, his elbows balanced on his knees. A wave of cool air washes over him and he realizes he’s still naked. A loud sob escapes his throat upon remembering whose hands are responsible for that.

“Louis?”

His eyes flash open, and every cell of his body freezes. He can’t breathe, he can’t blink, he can’t move, he can’t speak. His mind is nothing but a skipping record of his name, as it was just said, like a question. Trepidation evident in the voice of the man who said it.

A hand touches his knee, and he flinches, humiliated and confused and scared. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t call me that,” he squeaks out, his voice shaking so much he isn’t sure Harry even understands.

Harry steps back, and Louis still can’t look at him. Can’t bring himself to look up, to watch him as he says goodbye.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again.

“Just go.”

“No.”

“Harry, if you’re going to leave, just go!” he screams, lifting his heavy head and meeting Harry’s eyes.

Harry places his hand in the center of Louis’ chest and pushes him back against the bed, following his descent until he is hovering over him. Louis’ legs fan out and he pushes against him in vain, frantically trying to get away until he stills in surprise and defeat as Harry pins his flailing arms to the bed and screams, “Louis, fucking _stop_!”

He stops fighting. He shuts his eyes so tightly, shiny little speckles pop up in his vision, but that doesn’t stop the tears. Moisture leaks from the corners of his eyes as he sobs, the sound muffled through his tightly closed lips, his body shaking in Harry’s grip.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. Baby, _please_.”

“Why do you k-keep calling me th-that?” he forces out through the tremors wracking his body, opening his eyes to find Harry’s glued to his.

“What the fuck do you mean, why do I keep calling you that? I’ve been calling you that for two days! What is going on?!” he yells, clearly panicked.

“You’re leaving.”

“What are you talking about? I’m right here,” he says more softly. “Louis, I’m not going anywhere. Why are you crying? What happened?”

He tries to take in a deep breath, but his lungs fall short and he can’t stop trembling. He swallows around the lump in his throat as Harry watches him, waiting for an answer. “I woke up…and…and you were gone…cold sheets and you weren’t here…” He exhales. “You’re not leaving?”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You still want to be with me?”

“Louis,” Harry says, releasing his tight grip on Louis’ arms and resting his forearms beside his head. He thumbs under his eyes, brushing away tears, and smooths his hair back, away from his sweaty forehead. “Look at me.” Louis glances at him hesitantly, sniffling and willing his chin to stop wobbling. “I love you.” Louis breathes out, a fresh batch of saltwater flowing from his eyes. “Baby, I love you, and that didn’t change overnight. It’s never going to change. You never have to worry about me leaving. I don’t know how you could possibly think I would ever do that to you.”

Louis opens his mouth to argue that he wouldn’t blame him when Harry’s lips crash into his own. He holds him still with his hands on either side of Louis’ face. Louis surrenders, his heart still racing, but now for a different, better reason. Harry finally relents, pulls himself away just enough to break their kiss and looks at Louis like he is pleading for some kind of sign that Louis heard him at all.

“I love you,” he breathes, exhaling shakily.

Harry leans back in for just a moment to peck his lips three times in quick succession. “I love you, too.” He lies on his side in the spot he slept in last night, directing Louis to do the same, moving his legs and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders. He presses his nose against Louis’ and moves his head slowly, giving him an Eskimo kiss.

Louis wishes he could smile, but the exhaustion is too strong. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, not enough energy in his body to even use his vocal cords.

Harry’s hand moves to his cheek, and he runs his fingertips over his freckles before tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “You’re okay, love. I’m right here,” he says, his breath warm and minty against Louis’ mouth. All of the thoughts in Louis’ mind fall away as he focuses on nothing but the feeling of Harry, right now, touching his face, whispering promises onto his lips as he’d wished for so desperately when he woke without him.

Harry speaks a little louder when he asks, “Why did this happen?”

“Just…you weren’t here, and I thought…I figured you realized I wasn’t what you wanted. Because I’m not enough. And you left.”

Harry speaks quietly as he continues to caress his skin and play with his hair. “I know that no matter what I do, you need time. I don’t know what you have been telling yourself for all these years, but I do know that none of it is true. You’re all I want. You’re all I need. And you’re not just enough, you’re everything.” Louis sniffles and sighs under his gentle ministrations. “Baby, I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. And I will tell you five thousand times a day until you believe it. Until you’ve healed.” He kisses his lips, his words still staining them. “I’m here with you, and you’re more than I could ever dream of. Louis, _enough_ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Embarrassment colors Louis’ face in the pattern of Harry’s soft touches. He believes him, he really does. He just doesn’t believe in himself. He doesn’t trust himself not to fuck it all up.

“I’m sorry. I…I overexaggerated, I shouldn’t have—”

“We promised, no more apologies, little one.”

Louis smiles weakly at the name, closing his eyes to hide his secret fondness for those words. He doesn’t mind being little if Harry is here to hold him, to protect him from the world and himself. He wraps his arms around Harry and shuffles down the bed just enough to be able to rest his head on his broad chest. He breathes him in, trying to calm his mind with the light smell of his sweat and the lingering presence of his body wash. “I love you,” he whispers, pressing his lips to his skin as Harry’s hand moves to his hair, just barely scratching his scalp.

“I know,” Harry says. “You know I love you?” Louis nods, his chin grazing Harry’s nipple with his movement.

They lie in silence until Louis starts to drift to sleep, exhausted from crying and fearing the worst. Harry whispers his name and he grunts in response, unable to lift his eyelids or open his mouth.

“Lou, baby. Maybe you should eat something before we go back to sleep, yeah?” Louis isn’t sure he could even keep anything down right now, and he definitely doesn’t want to leave Harry’s warmth for something as trivial as food. He shakes his head against his chest, silently pleading with him to allow him to stay this close. “Come on, real quick. It’s right here, we don’t even have to get out of bed. Your tummy’s going to hurt later if you don’t eat, you know that.”

Louis opens his eyes in confusion, his gaze traveling to the plate of bread and cheese and fruit sitting untouched on the table on Harry’s side of the bed. “When did you…?”

“That’s where I was when you woke up. I kissed you good morning and left you to sleep so I could brush my teeth and grab us some food. Was gonna feed you like a king,” he chuckles. “Y’know,” he lifts his hand up above his head as if he were pinching something between his thumb and forefinger, “like with the grapes.”

Louis smiles despite himself, can’t really help it when he’s got a man in his arms this endearing. “You are such a dork, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m your dork. And don’t you ever forget it,” he says dramatically, repeatedly pressing his finger against Louis’ lips.

Harry helps him sit up, and they feed each other their breakfast before lying back down, chest-to-chest, their noses pressed to one another’s cheeks and their feet tangled under the duvet.

“You wanna sleep all day? It’s not very pretty outside today anyway.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s gorgeous. The sun is shining so bright in here my eyes hurt.”

“It’s a nice day, but you’re far more beautiful, my love.”

Louis feels the blush hit his cheeks just like it does each and every time Harry calls him any variation of that word. “Shut up.”

“I will not.” He kisses him once more, their open lips sealed together as Harry breathes new life into him. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Louis whispers as Harry pulls his lips away and settles into his pillow. He only holds on to consciousness for long enough to watch Harry fall asleep, his lips moving every so often, his fingertips twitching against Louis’ where their hands are connected between their chests. He loosens his grip as his thoughts grow quieter, knowing he doesn’t have to hold on so tightly.

Harry isn’t leaving. He promised, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, kiddos, trauma doesn't just go away. I'm so sorry for this necessary pain. But don't you worry, cuddles and sweetness and laughs coming soon!


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm being smothered by fluffy boys in love, send help. I can't stop writing this sickeningly sweet crap, so I hope you like it. ;)
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading and for leaving kudos and comments! You've no idea how much they mean to me. <3

"My only sunshineee,” a deep voice coos, pulling Louis from a deep sleep. He blinks, his eyes opening slowly to a dim bedroom, the last moments of the sunset being painted onto the wall where it shines in from the window. His eyes focus on Harry’s pretty mouth, his lips parting and closing around words Louis hasn’t heard in years. “You make me happy when skies are grey.” Their eyes meet, and Harry smiles, his face softening as he looks at Louis.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Louis croaks past his sore throat.

Harry’s fingers dance along to his melody, tickling down his arm until he flattens his hand along his hip, down past his bum and to his thigh. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.” He kisses Louis’ cheek and gently digs his fingertips into his skin under the sheets. “So please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Louis watches him, his heart thrumming pleasantly in his chest. He stays quiet for what feels like a long time as they watch one another blink. “I believe you,” he says, breaking their silence. “I need for you to know that.”

“Glad to hear it,” Harry grins, moving his hand up to hold Louis’ resting on the bed.

“What time is it?”

“I’m not sure. I only woke up a few minutes ago. Sorry for waking you, I needed to kiss you.”

Louis finally feels a tired smile creeping onto his lips. “That’s okay. I needed to kiss you, too.”

Harry’s smile grows, and he plants a soft kiss on his nose and another, longer one on his lips before leaning back and reaching behind himself to grab his phone. “Damn, we really did sleep the whole day.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to waste so much of our time here.”

“If you apologize to me one more time, I’m going to pick you up out of this bed, carry you outside, and throw you into the sea. I mean it.”

Louis watches silently, trying to hide his smile, as Harry’s eyes sparkle like he’s some kind of muscular, tattooed, curly-haired Disney princess. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Harry’s mouth pops open in shock, and his hands slide up to the very ticklish area under Louis’ arm. “Hazzah!” he shrieks, laughter bubbling out of his mouth. “Stop, please! I’m sorry!”

“You’re just determined to make this even worse for yourself, aren’t you?”

Louis laughs and tries to escape Harry’s torturous hands. “Baby, oh my God! Please!”

“Oh yeah, scream for me, baby. Love it when you lose yourself,” he says mockingly.

Louis swats at his chest harder than before, shrill laughter pinging around the room. And suddenly one of Harry’s arms slides under Louis’ back, the other gripping the bottom of his thigh, lifting him from the bed. The cool, still air hits his bare skin, and he shivers, pressing himself closer to Harry’s warmth as he holds him. He wraps his hands around his neck and giggles all the way to the front door as Harry puts forth his best effort to run and kiss him at the same time.

“We’re naked!” Louis shouts, suddenly realizing that this is decidedly not the place to start a new life as nudists.

“So?” Harry laughs, coming to a halt on the porch..

“So?! There could be children here, Harold!” he hisses.

Harry leans over, balancing Louis in his arms, and grabs the two towels they left outside the day before, placing them in Louis’ lap. “Happy now?”

Louis can’t respond, turning his head to muffle his laughter against Harry’s neck as he runs toward the water like a madman, Louis’ legs bouncing with every step. Louis throws their towels into the sand as they near the shoreline, and the next thing he knows, he’s submerged under cold water, Harry having thrown him into the air with no warning. He pushes his bare feet against the seafloor and shoots toward the surface, moving into more shallow water. His skin meets the cool air as he gasps for breath, a smile on his face when Harry crashes into him from behind. He wraps his arms around his stomach and reaches around to kiss his cheek.

“Told you I’d throw you in the sea.”

“It’s fooking freezing! I hate you!”

Harry’s nose finds the nape of his wet neck, and Louis’ breath catches in his throat as his hands move further down his body, his movement against him hidden under the water, the only sign of his arousal the subtle ripples wading away from them. “No, you don’t. You love me. You want me. You want me right here, right now. You want me so bad you’re choking for it, aren’t you, love?”

Louis says nothing, leaning his head back onto Harry’s shoulder and panting embarrassingly loudly as Harry strokes him, the movement of his arm creating tiny waves. He turns around, his wet skin slipping against Harry’s, and climbs up his body, throwing his arms around his neck and linking his ankles around the dip of his back. Harry’s hands spread out over his back, and he kisses him fiercely as Louis grinds against him at an agonizingly slow pace, teasing him, wanting him just as affected as Louis feels. “Gonna give it to me, Haz? Just like I need it? Or are you all talk? What else can that dirty little mouth do?”

Harry moans against his lips, and his nails scratch down his back, Louis shuddering and whimpering into his ear at the sweet twinge of pain. “Fuck, Louis,” he whines desperately.

“Too bad we’re not still in bed, huh, baby? But you had to make your point.”

Harry nips at his neck, no doubt in retaliation for his smart mouth, and walks toward the shore, letting Louis slip back to the ground to run to his towel. Louis sprints toward the house, leaving him behind. He giggles as Harry yells empty threats that are really promises, racing past Harry’s car and into the house. Harry isn’t far behind, slamming the door behind him before Louis even makes it to the loo.

He stands in the doorway, staring at Louis like he’s something to eat as he turns on the shower. “What are you doing?” he asks, pained desperation coating his words.

Louis strolls over toward him slowly, swinging his hips in the way he knows makes Harry’s mouth go dry. “Whatever do you mean, my love?” he asks, a coy smile on his face. “Don’t want to get sand in our bed.”

Harry’s face changes, morphs from a look of mild discomfort to one of pure joy and surprise. “Say that again,” he breathes.

Louis doesn’t need to ask to know what he’s referring to. He slides his hands slowly up his smooth chest and over his shoulders and rises up on the tips of his toes, pressing his lips to Harry’s before whispering, “Our bed.”

Harry breathes out a laugh and kisses him again. “That’s the first one.”

“First what?”

He opens his eyes, offering Louis two bright fields of green to get lost in. “I read somewhere once that sometimes the things you don’t know you want end up making you the happiest.” Louis smirks, encouraging him to continue, having no idea where he’s going with this. “And it made me think of us. Not like…not that I didn’t know I wanted you, I knew that part. Bloody hell, this is hard to explain.” He chuckles, “I’m doing a shit job.”

“That’s all right, love. I’m listening.” He kisses him quickly, a reward of sorts. “Could listen to you ramble on all day.”

“I imagined all of these little things you’d say or do that would seem insignificant to you and probably actually would be pretty insignificant but would mean so much to me. These little things, the tiniest moments would make me so happy and I wouldn’t know I wanted them until they happened. And they would all add up and be not-so-little anymore.”

“Like ‘our bed?’” Louis whispers.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, laughing as a tear falls from his eye. “Never want to have a ‘my bed’ ever again.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Louis asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Well, your place would probably be better. Because Zayn and Li are talking about moving in together. As long as you don’t mind Gracie.”

A million thoughts race through Louis’ brain as he realizes that Harry isn’t joking. “You want to live with me? Like for real? For realskies?”

“For realskies,” Harry laughs. “Is that what _you_ want?”

“Are you sure about this? I mean, that’s kind of a big step.”

“I’ve been in love with you, in one way or another, since I was ten years old. I’m done waiting.”

Louis smiles and presses his lips to Harry’s like it’s the first time he’s ever kissed him. Harry follows his lead until their smiles make kissing impossible. “We’ll have to puppyproof my flat.”

“Good practice,” Harry breathes against his lips. Louis opens his eyes and waits for Harry’s next words, knowing exactly what they’re going to be. “For babies.” The words slip out between his teeth, his lips pulled tight around his smile.

Louis pushes his thumb into his deeper left dimple before pulling him toward the shower, the glass door already opaque with steam.

“What?” Harry inquires, unable to read Louis’ expression, as he closes the door behind them.

He exhales slowly, pulling Harry down to press a soft kiss to his temple as the hot water washes over them. “That’s my first one.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter are sexually explicit!

Somehow they manage to wash each other’s hair and clean their bodies with soapy, wandering hands without either of them attacking the other. They’re both ridiculously hard, have been for an hour or more, but Harry seems to be putting forth tremendous effort not to touch him, and Louis really doesn’t know why. They share a quick midnight snack in the light of the moon and the refrigerator left open to cool their skin, sweaty from their shower, and brush their teeth, standing side-by-side. Louis never wants to brush his teeth alone again if he can stare at Harry through the mirror instead, watch as spit drips down his chin because he can’t stop smiling.

They return to their bedroom, Louis thinking it’s been more than long enough since they were last here, even if it’s only been two hours. He closes the door as Harry lies back against the duvet, his eyes traveling over Louis’ body as he walks toward him. He climbs onto the bed, crawling over Harry’s body, his chest visibly heaving, his quiet breaths rapidly hitting Louis’ skin. “Are you tired? We did sleep all day,” Louis whispers. Harry slowly turns his head side-to-side. He looks borderline panicked. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you ever going to fuck me?” he blurts out.

Louis blinks in confusion, trying not to laugh, trying to fix his expression into one of comfort for the obviously nervous boy below him. Harry fidgets under his gaze, and Louis finds his confidence. He grins mischievously, raising an eyebrow, and leans in, his breath minty and warm against Harry’s lips. “You want that, petal?” Harry actually fucking whimpers, and Louis is suddenly dizzy with a desire to absolutely wreck him. “Want me inside of you? Want to come on my cock? Bet you need it so badly, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Harry whines his name, Louis’ cock twitching at his downright pornographic noises. He shushes him, kissing him softly. “I’ll give it to you, love. Give you anything you want. All you had to do was ask, petal.”

“I’m gonna come before you even touch me if you keep calling me that.”

Louis’ smile grows as he leans in closer, just barely blowing cool air against Harry’s ear, his skin prickling with goosebumps at the sensation. “Petal,” Louis whispers. He comes up for air, Harry’s scent nearly suffocating, and presses his lips to Harry’s, swollen where he has almost bitten them raw. “So pretty. So gorgeous. All mine,” he rambles, gradually losing his mind with Harry panting in his ear, nipping hungrily at his lips.

“Yours, Lou,” he whispers. “Only ever yours.”

“I know, love,” Louis coos, guiding him to lie correctly on the bed, watching as his hair fans out across the pillow. “How do you want it?”

Harry doesn’t respond, just flips over onto his front and pushes his bum against him as Louis tries to remember how to breathe. He reaches toward the bedside table, grabbing the lube, as Harry pants into his pillow, dampening the material with his hot, frantic breaths. “Can’t believe I get to have you like this,” he whispers, coating his fingers with the slippery liquid. He rubs the tip of a finger gently against his opening, his own desperation growing with every whimper out of Harry’s mouth. “So beautiful, Haz.”

He pushes inside, Harry tight and warm around his finger. Harry sighs, the muscles in his back rippling under Louis’ gaze. “Want you to come inside me,” he breathes, using the last of the air in the room.

“You’re going to kill me,” Louis says, pulling out to add another finger. Harry stifles a moan into his pillow as Louis spreads his fingers apart, stretching him open. He keeps his hand where it is as he leans forward, sealing his chest to Harry’s back. His skin is glowing, a sweaty sheen coating his body, shining in the moonlight. “Don’t,” he whispers, feeling Harry shiver under his weight. “Wanna hear you. Every pretty sound, baby.” He kisses his cheek not pressed into the pillow. “So lovely.”

“Lou, please…” he whimpers, his sounds of desperation traveling to Louis’ cock. Louis adds a third finger and pushes in as far as he dares until the tip of his middle finger grazes what he’s been searching for. Harry’s back arches, and Louis can’t help the cocky grin on his face when the boy cries out his name and a string of rather indecent words.

“Now you know how I’ve felt for the past few days days,” he says, his voice deep and needy, his breath hot on Harry’s skin. He massages Harry’s most sensitive spot as he squirms wildly underneath him. “Bet I could make you come just like this.”

“C-could,” Harry gasps. “You could. Don’t. Wanna…ah! Louis!”

“What was that, love?” Louis smirks, withdrawing his hand.

Harry flips himself onto his back the moment Louis is no longer touching him. He watches with a pained expression as Louis slicks himself up and throws the bottle to the ground. He reaches up, pulling Louis down for the most passionate kiss he’s given him since they awoke. “Fuck me,” Harry growls, the words sliding like warm honey down Louis’ throat as he breathes them past his lips.

Louis kisses him for a while longer, longer than Harry would have preferred going by his whimpers getting more high-pitched by the minute. He tastes his tongue, runs his own over Harry’s teeth, searing their lips together so brutally, it almost hurts. He just needs one last thing before he gives his boy what he wants. He crawls backward, bringing his lips to Harry’s neck, sucking on his skin he generously offers by dropping his head to the other side. He moves further down his body, and he can tell Harry thinks this is it, that he’s done teasing him. He’s not even close.

His lips find his left nipple, and Harry hisses. He kisses the raised nub gently and, without another breath, flattens his tongue against his right. Harry jerks in surprise, Louis’ hands coming up to secure his arms to the bed. “Be good for me, baby,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on Harry’s from below. Harry groans and throws his head back against the pillow, but he doesn’t say a word, obviously determined to obey Louis’ command. He scrapes his teeth softly against his sensitive skin, his hands lifting from Harry’s wrists to grip his side and to rub tiny circles over his other nipple.

He crawls back up, his lips finding Harry’s again. “Was gonna play with all of them, but I didn’t want to make you wait too much longer. I know I’ll get carried away.”

Harry chuckles breathlessly. “The others aren’t very responsive anyway. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Louis smiles as he pulls away, watching Harry’s eyes flash open to meet his own. “Are you telling me that you have two nipples that are purely decorative?”

Harry laughs louder, Louis’ smile widening at the show of his boy’s happiness. “Yeah, is that a deal-breaker?”

“I think the only deal-breaker would be if you like…I don’t know, murdered someone. And even then, I’d need all the facts of the case before I made a decision.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I just love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They’re just lying there, staring at each other with manic smiles on their faces, their lips kiss-bitten and a warm flush across their cheeks. They definitely _look_ crazy.

“Louis,” Harry starts after a long silence Louis spent distracted by the darkness in Harry’s eyes.

“Yeah, Haz.”

He kisses him once, gentle and innocent. “Make love to me.”

Louis thinks if it were anyone else saying those words, they would sound like a joke. But when Harry says them, they sound like a prayer.

“Turn over, love.” Harry does after one last kiss, lifting his hips as Louis slides a pillow under him. He plants soft, lingering kisses down his back as Harry’s breath quickens, his back rising and falling faster and faster. “Breathe, Haz. I’ve got you.” Harry sighs, and Louis can’t wait another second. “Ready?”

Harry nods, hiding his face against his pillow. Louis lines himself up and pushes in slowly, much too slowly, but he can’t risk hurting him. He’d never forgive himself. Harry whimpers, turning his head to the side to let his noises flow into the room, remembering Louis’ request. “You okay?” Louis pants.

“Yeah…more,” Harry grunts, “C’mon, I can take it.”

“Talk to me, okay? Tell me what feels good.”

Harry hums in response, the sound catching in his throat as Louis bottoms out. His hands swing back in search of Louis’, and he takes them in his own. He brings their hands under Harry’s shoulders, elbows bent against the bed and fingers intertwined, and rests his chest against his back, no light getting through, not a single air particle between them.

He noses at the damp curls at the nape of Harry’s neck as he drapes himself over his body like a blanket, his skin sweaty and smelling of the Earth after a storm, like ripe fruit, like Harry. It’s intoxicating. “I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice uneven as he waits for Harry to adjust, his veins catching fire with the tight heat around his cock.

“I’m good,” Harry grunts. “You can move.”

Their legs tangle over the duvet, Harry’s knees outside of Louis’. He thrusts slowly, never putting distance between their bodies. Harry moans steadily, Louis’ heart beating wildly at every nonsensical syllable as he picks up speed. And then Louis must move his hips in just the right way because Harry suddenly cries out, pushing his arse back as if Louis could possibly get any deeper. He stays locked inside of him and circles his hips, the head of his cock rubbing over Harry’s prostate mercilessly.

“Oh my God, Louis!” Harry exclaims, holding onto his hands so tightly, they nearly go numb. “Fuck, oh my God! Please!” he cries, squirming with pleasure underneath him.

Louis relents, pulling out to resume his thrusts and give Harry just a tiny bit of relief. He drags his dry lips down the back of his sweaty neck, tasting him as he rocks into him over and over again. Harry is helplessly grinding into the pillow under his hips, making the most obscene sounds Louis has ever heard.

“Feel so full,” Harry whines unabashedly. “Wanted, _oh fuck_ …wanted this for so long.”

Louis reaches up, stretching his torso over him, to nip at his earlobe. “Gonna come for me, baby? Love when I fill you up like this?”

Harry mewls, spit coating the duvet below him, the pillow lost somewhere in their shuffle. “’M close,” he shudders.

And thank God for that because Louis has been trying to stave off his own orgasm for the past fifteen minutes, basically from the moment he pushed inside of him. He wants to come as Harry tightens around him, shooting his release onto the pillow and crying out Louis’ name like he always does when he comes. He must be in a dream. He still can’t believe this is real.

Harry starts breathing harder and faster, signaling his impending orgasm. “Louis…fuck,” he whimpers loudly. “I’m gonna come, gonna…” And it happens, Louis hears his name being called through the static in his ears as Harry tenses, shivering below him. The unbelievable pressure surrounding his cock overshadows the pain of Harry’s unrelenting grip on his fingers. He presses his open mouth to Harry’s back, letting his hot breath caress his even hotter skin, and thrusts one, two, three more times before the tension snaps loose. He holds him close as he feels his release spill inside of him in thick pulses. He stays still, all of his weight against Harry’s back, as they come down together, their tortured breathing perfectly in sync.

“Holy shit,” Harry chuckles quietly.

“I can’t move.”

“That’s okay. You’re not very heavy.”

“I am a muscular, masculine man, Harry.”

“You’re right, it’s not like I can pick you up with one arm or anything.”

“Fuck off,” Louis giggles, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s shoulder blade.

“You’re literally still inside of me, and you’re telling me to fuck off?”

Louis kisses him once more before pulling his hands from Harry’s grip and peeling himself off of him. He pulls out slowly, Harry hissing at the emptiness, and runs the palm of his hand over his back and across his cheeks, soothing his heated skin.

Harry turns over, his eyes sparkling, a dopey grin on his face. “I don’t really have anything to compare it to, but I think we’re pretty damn good at this.” Louis giggles brightly at his outburst as Harry’s hands come up to make him lose his balance, his back hitting the bed as Harry rolls over on top of him. “Fuck,” Harry breathes, “I am so in love with you.”

It’s probably meant to be a serious moment, but Louis can’t stop laughing, his heart so full of joy that he can’t hold it in.

“Why are you laughing at me?” Harry demands, laughter bubbling up in his own voice.

He can’t respond, giggling and throwing his head back as his eyes squeeze shut so tightly, tears gather on his eyelashes. Harry laughs, too, kissing down his neck and across his chest as well as he can with the smile on his face. Eventually they quiet, looking into one another’s eyes as both of them had wished to do for so, so long.

“I’ve never been this happy,” Louis says, lifting a hand to cradle Harry’s face as he holds himself over Louis.

He tucks a piece of fringe behind Louis’ ear and smiles softly. “You are so beautiful.” Louis feels his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t look away. “I always thought you were, but now…that first day we spoke, when you came to the café? I couldn’t breathe. The only thought in my mind was how gorgeous you are now. I couldn’t believe it.”

“What about you? With the hair and the tattoos and the those damn shirts that make me drool?”

Harry laughs, “So the truth comes out. You only love me for my clothes.”

“I think my brain shorted out when I looked at you. Niall had to kick me under the table. Gone was the lanky, curly boy I once knew. Even prettier than before somehow.”

Harry smiles and nips at Louis’ bottom lip. “You always blush when I say you’re beautiful. Does it bother you? I know I say it all the time, but it’s true all the time.”

“I like that you say it,” Louis breathes. After another minute or so of painfully honest eye contact, he pats Harry’s smooth chest. “Can you get off of me, please?”

Harry frowns. “Nope.” He lowers his arms and places all of his weight on Louis, cutting off any flow of oxygen he was already struggling to find.

He giggles and slaps his back gently. “Get off of me, you animal! I was just going to get a flannel, there’s no reason to worry.”

“Oh,” Harry smirks. “Okay, then.” He rolls off of him, landing on his back beside him. “Hurry back, please. Your come is dripping down my crack, and it’s not the most pleasant thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Oh, really?” Louis asks mockingly as he stands from the bed, stretching his legs before walking to the door. “Maybe I should make you sleep like that like you had me do last night.”

“You didn’t want me to leave this bed for one second, and you know it. Don’t even try it.”

Louis sticks his tongue out before opening the door and rushing to the loo. He wets a clean flannel in the sink and returns to the bedroom to find Harry throwing a pillow to the floor. “That’ll be the sex pillow, there’s come all over it,” he laughs.

Louis sits on the edge of the bed and gently wipes Harry’s bum, guiding the soft material over his reddened hole and down his inner thighs. Harry just watches him with a look of wonder in his eyes.

“What?” Louis asks, blinking up through his eyelashes.

“Nothing. Sometimes it just hits me all over again that this is real. I’m not fantasizing or imagining or dreaming. It’s real. You’re really here with me. And you’re cleaning your come from my arse.”

“Wow, romantic,” Louis winks, hastily wiping his own cock and throwing the cloth on top of their pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room.

“You know what I mean,” Harry says as he rolls over onto his side and waits for Louis to hold him. Because he just knows that he will. He pulls the duvet out from under Harry’s legs and lies down behind him, pulling it up over their shoulders. He rests his hand against Harry’s stomach, over his butterfly tattoo, as Harry wiggles his bum back into the curve of Louis’ body.

“We need to call the guys when we wake up,” Louis says.

Harry snorts. “Wonder where they are.”

“Probably spying on us,” Louis giggles. Louder, he says, “Niall, if you can hear me, you can come to the beach now. Harry and I figured out that we love having sex with each other, so your job is done.”

Harry laughs and pulls his arm further around him, kissing his hand with sleepy lips. “Liam was doing the same thing, y’know. Was a right pain in my arse for months.”

“I’ll have to thank him,” Louis whispers, kissing his shoulder.

“Niall is my hero.”

Louis breathes out a laugh, his eyes closed. “I love you, Haz.”

“I love you, too, Lou.”

“See you in the morning.”

Harry nods, his hair tickling Louis’ face. “See you every morning.”

Louis smiles. He relaxes against his body, his nose pressed to Harry’s curls, his soft, slow breath puffing against Harry’s skin. He drifts into a peaceful sleep, no doubt in his mind that Harry will still be here when he wakes. He’ll still be beautiful and kind and wonderful. He’ll still love him and kiss those words onto Louis’ lips every chance he gets. He’ll still be here. Every morning.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning. Also, I promise they're going to change the sheets in the next chapter. ;)  
> Okay bye, have fun! Leave me a comment, they are my lifeblood!

Soft lips and fingers tracing words and patterns onto his skin. Hot breath against his stomach, his thighs, his cock. Quiet murmurs, a deep voice laced with desire.

Louis’ eyes blink open lazily, the sunlight pouring into the room nearly blinding. But that’s not important. What is important is Harry’s tongue dragging along the crease between his thigh and his groin. “Haz,” he groans, his throat dry from dehydration and his voice weak from disuse.

Harry hums, the sound vibrating against his sensitive skin. He shudders underneath Harry’s mouth, his breathing steadily picking up as he continues to lick and suck and bite at his inner thighs. His hands find Harry’s hair and he pulls gently on the shiny strands at the top of his head, Harry moaning and sinking his teeth deeply into Louis’ skin.

“Ow!” Louis shouts, his eyes flashing open to find Harry smiling guiltily right above his cock.

“Sorry, babe.”

“That hurt,” he whines.

Harry kisses the spot where he no doubt left a mark. “Was your fault,” he mumbles.

“What the hell did I do?”

“You pulled my hair.”

“Oh, does that do something for you, love?” He smiles devilishly as Harry looks up at him like he wants to devour him whole. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Mhm. Sure,” Harry replies curtly before crawling up the bed and crashing his lips against Louis’, kissing him like both of their lives depend on it. He eventually tears himself away to breathe, leaving Louis panting hungrily beneath him. His pupils are blown, the green of his irises pushed almost entirely out by the darkness.

“What is with you this morning?” Louis asks. “Jesus Christ, you had…” his language skills momentarily leave him as Harry leans down to lick behind his ear, breathing down his neck and kissing up his chin, leaving a scorching trail wherever his lips touch his skin. Harry smiles, his lips so close Louis can taste them. “You had me less than twelve hours ago, and you haven’t stopped touching me since. You can’t really be this desperate already.” That’s a lie. He knows it’s a lie because he’s that desperate himself.

“Was just thinking what an injustice it is that I’ve never had you in my mouth, and I thought I’d change that as soon as possible. Do you have a problem with that? Because if so, I have some ideas on ways to convince you.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, not totally sure where this is headed, but liking the direction. “Like what?”

“Could tie you up. Not let you touch yourself. Or me. That would drive you crazy, wouldn’t it, baby?” he breathes over his lips.

Louis swallows, tries to still his trembling fingers in Harry’s hair. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“Be good for me, and we won’t have to test that little theory out,” Harry says menacingly, detangling Louis’ hands from his curls and pressing them against the sheets, still warm from their combined heat through the night. He kisses him, alternating between rough swipes of his lips and gentle glides of his tongue, Louis just trying to ride the wave as he comes up with a plan.

Harry’s hands leave his to skim over his chest as he moves further down his body, Louis’ every muscle coiled tight in anticipation. He could behave. He could. He’d do anything Harry wanted. But the knowing smile on Harry’s face tells him that he wants exactly what Louis does. So he lifts his hands from where Harry pressed them into the bed and finds his shoulders, runs his fingertips over his neck and slips them into his curls.

Harry stops his slow descent and travels back up his body until he arrives at his mouth. He doesn’t kiss him. “Thought you were going to be a good boy,” he whispers, his eyes alive with possibility.

“Sorry,” Louis lies, a telling smile on his face.

The backs of his hands hit the bed again, Harry slipping his fingers into the spaces between his own as he holds him captive. “If you do it again, there will be consequences,” he growls.

Louis sinks further into the mattress, liquid heat running through his veins at Harry’s words and the vaguely threatening tone of his voice and the way he is suddenly sucking bruises onto Louis’ hipbones. His breath hitches as Harry licks over his flesh, tingling with sweet pain, and he moves a hand very deliberately to wrap around his own already-hard cock, knowing exactly how Harry is going to feel about that. Harry slides off of the bed, and Louis thinks that maybe he miscalculated. Until he realizes what he is searching for. He smiles triumphantly as Harry digs through his bag.

He drags his fingertips up and down his torso, playing with his nipples and thumbing the wet tip of his cock. Harry freezes as he stands and turns back toward the bed, watching silently as Louis gathers a drop of precome on his index finger and brings it to his mouth, his eyes fixed on Harry’s. “Whatcha got there, love?” he asks coyly.

Harry snaps out of his trance and rips the vest in his hands down the middle, creating two separate pieces of material. Louis giggles at his dramatic show of strength, momentarily breaking the spell. Harry laughs with him. “We’re at the beach, I didn’t bring any ties. This is the best idea I’ve got.” He climbs on top of Louis, bringing their lips together for a long, slow kiss, their breath mixing in their open mouths. Harry pulls away after several unhurried minutes and looks at him almost reverently. “You sure?” he whispers.

Louis nods, smoothing his hands up Harry’s neck, knowing he’s about to lose the ability to do so. “Love you.” He pulls on a curl, licking into Harry’s mouth when it opens in surprise. “Wanna play with you.”

Harry smiles, pressing his nose against Louis’ cheek. “You trust me?”

“Trust you,” he breathes as Harry takes hold of his hands and brings them toward the headboard.

“I want you to have a word.”

“A what?”

“Like a safe word. Want to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

Louis looks up at the ceiling, wracking his brain for any words other than Harry’s name. “We could just use like, um…traffic light colors. Don’t people do that? Like red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for go?”

“Okay.”

Louis nods, but Harry doesn’t move, and Louis really wants to be tied up like _now_ , so he speaks, lifting his eyebrows mockingly. “I’m green, by the way. Good to go. Any time you want to get on with it.”

Harry laughs, the soft material of his ruined vest slipping around Louis’ wrists, one at a time, tightening as he watches Harry bite his bottom lip in concentration as he knots them, securing him to the iron headboard.

“You want to test them?” Harry asks hesitantly, a pink dusting across his cheekbones betraying his act of confidence.

Louis pulls gently on the restraints, a smile lighting up Harry’s face when his arms don’t move. “Don’t think I’ll be pulling your hair again,” he smirks. “At least not right now.”

Harry kisses him, apparently proud of his success. He moves down, planting kisses along his sternum, across the sensitive skin of his belly, in the short, coarse hair below his navel. He doesn’t waste any more time, flattening his tongue to lick up the underside of his cock, hard and leaking on his stomach. This really isn’t going to take long, the excitement from being handled like this almost enough to make him come without a single touch. Louis whimpers, losing all of his resolve when Harry wraps his hand around him and gently suckles around the head.

His hips leave the bed in his effort to feel more, to be closer. Harry lets him, moving with the rhythm of his body. His tongue presses into the sensitive slit, and Louis’ wrists rub against the soft material as he tries in vain to touch him. “Harry, please,” he moans, feeling more pleasure than he expected at being denied. And then the heat of Harry’s mouth is suddenly surrounding his cock, the tip hitting the back of Harry’s throat over and over again.

He can’t help the motion of his hips, not with his upper body immobilized like this. But Harry doesn’t seem to mind it, groaning every time he gags just slightly. “Fuck, Harry!” Louis cries. He pulls against his restraints, spikes of pain and pleasure shooting up his spine. “Feels so good.”

Harry continues his ministrations, pressing a dry finger against his hole. Louis bucks his hips up, and Harry takes it, seemingly reveling in the abuse to his throat.  Harry doesn’t say anything, can’t with Louis’ cock taking up all the space in his mouth, but Louis swears he can hear his thoughts.

He can imagine so clearly what Harry would be saying right now. _So beautiful, Lou. Come for me, baby. So pretty when you come just for me. Love you so much._ He imagines the words being whispered into his ear as the heat in his belly continues to climb.

Harry’s fingertip pushes past the tight ring of muscle, and Louis starts babbling, trying to warn him. “Haz, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” he whimpers, his voice growing in volume with every syllable. Harry doesn’t relent, taking him down all the way, circling his tongue around the head on every upstroke. “Baby…I’m…” Louis manages to warn him one final time before his back arches off the bed as he comes down Harry’s throat. Harry supports his weight with his hands under his bum, his fingers massaging his flexed muscles as he swallows around the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” Louis moans, his arms relaxing, his wrists hanging limply around their ties. Harry pulls off with a loud pop only to start licking up his length once again. Electric sparks shoot up his spine and down his legs as Harry works over him, oversensitive and overwhelmed. “Harry, let me,” he pants, squirming below him. “Wanna touch you, wanna take care of you.”

Harry finally shows him mercy, crawling up his body to press his lips against Louis’ forcefully. He tastes remnants of himself on Harry’s insistent tongue, and he loves it. Harry is his, and he is Harry’s, and this feels like proof of that. Harry lifts himself, hovering over Louis teasingly with his inability to close the distance himself in his current predicament.

“Uh…about that,” Harry chuckles, a blush creeping over his smooth chest and up his neck to settle on his cheeks.

“What?”

“Kind of already took care of myself.”

Louis looks down the smooth planes of Harry’s body to find his cock limp and barely dripping onto his own groin. He isn’t sure how he missed that, but he’d bet the ridiculously strong orgasm he just had probably had something to with it. His jaw drops, and Harry takes advantage of it, licking into his mouth. His soft palms move against the grain of Louis’s scruff as he kisses him deeply. “You looked so sexy, tied up and panting, moaning my name like that.” He groans, “I couldn’t help it.”

Louis laughs quietly against Harry’s mouth, his eyes shut tight, his smile so wide, he’s sure he must look insane.

“Don’t laugh at meeee,” Harry whines.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he giggles, tears trickling out of the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time we have sex, I start laughing and crying, and I don’t know why! I’m just so happy, it like…pours out of me, and I can’t stop. I’m sorry,” he says weakly as another round of laughter grips him.

Harry smiles, “Love you, my sunshine.”

“I love you, too,” Louis whispers. “I’d love you even more if you helped me put clean sheets on the bed. We’ve pretty much destroyed these, and you just made it even worse.”

Harry kisses him gently and rises to his knees, straddling Louis’ hips. He lifts his hands to Louis’ wrists, loosening one of the knots he’d tied earlier. “I saw some extra linens in the hall closet—”

His hands freeze as a loud banging sound drifts into the room from the other side of the closed door. “What the hell?” Louis startles, jerking his arms forward, tightening the knot Harry just loosened.

“Oh, lover boys! Make yourselves decent, you’ve got company!” Niall’s voice cuts through the still air.

Louis bursts into hysterical laughter as Harry’s face morphs into an expression somewhere between surprised amusement and panicked humiliation. He grapples unsuccessfully at the material tying Louis to the headboard, Louis not helping in the slightest with his squirming and giggling.

“Get your arses out here now!” Liam barks, his voice carrying over Zayn’s pleas for them to “please take the time to put on pants.”

Harry finally loosens the material on both of his wrists enough for Louis to slip his hands through. Louis grabs him as he moves to jump from the bed. “Excuse me!” he hisses. “I don’t care if the queen of England is in the living room, you _will_ give me a kiss before you leave this bed.”

Harry giggles brightly, kissing him hard and pulling him up to join him in finding clothes to throw on before leaving the quiet safety of their bedroom to welcome their intruders.

“Louis Tomlinson! If you aren’t out of there in thirty seconds, I’m coming in! And I don’t think either of us wants that! I’d rather not scar myself for life!”

Louis pulls on a pair of Harry’s boxers, tripping over the waistband as he tries to get his leg inside. He catches himself, his hand gripping Harry’s love handle. He rights himself, pulling the boxers over his groin, his cock still tingling with Harry’s spit. Jesus Christ. They could not have picked a worse time. He really was not done with him _at all_.

Harry breathes out another laugh and wraps his arms around his waist, lifting him so that his feet leave the ground, kissing him softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Louis smiles. “Now let’s go rub it in their faces.”

He sets him down, and Louis opens the door as Harry smacks his bum, following him out of the room. They are met with a wall of four bodies, a cocky smirk on each of their friends’ faces. Niall has his hands propped on his hips, looking like he just got away with murder.

“Hello,” Louis giggles as Harry presses up against his back and throws his arms around his chest, trapping his arms under his. He kisses his neck before resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder as they both smile at the looks of utter amusement on the boys’ faces.

Niall holds his hands out, palms up, the other boys reaching out to offer high fives, and Louis can’t help but bark out a laugh, his body jostling against Harry’s warmth. “Well, judging by Louis’ pants that definitely aren’t his and Harry’s sex hair, I’d say this mission was a success, innit lads?”

Harry’s lips find his neck, and Louis shivers at the intimate sensation, smiling and closing his eyes, blocking out their friends’ comments as Harry whispers in his ear. “I’d say so, my love.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm very happy for two reasons!  
> 1) I was so, so lucky to manage to get tickets to see Harry! If any of you lovely people or anyone you know is going to his Chicago show in September, please reach out to me. I'm trying to get a little group together!  
> 2) I'm super proud of this chapter, so I hope you like it. :)
> 
> To any of you who are sad about not getting tickets, I hope this update full of soft gay love makes you feel even the tiniest bit better. I love all of you, and so does Harry. <3

“You’ve got some explaining to do, lads,” Louis says, pulling himself from Harry’s arms to sit on the sofa.

Niall snorts. He actually snorts. “Both of you were doing a shit job, so we intervened. That’s pretty much it.”

Harry cackles, walking over to the sofa to lay himself across Louis’ lap. Louis plays with his loose curls as he speaks. “So where the hell were you? We didn’t buy any of your cockamamie stories for one second.”

Ed pipes up. “Well, this is my parents’ place. My uncle has a house down the beach. We’ve been staying there.”

Louis laughs, “What?!”

“Yeah, but we have to move in with you two for the last few days because he’s renting it out to people who are actually paying. With money. That we don’t have.”

“You didn’t think we were going to miss out on our holiday just so you two could finally figure your shit out, did you?” Zayn quips.

“Yeah,” Liam smiles, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “We deserved a romantic getaway, as well.”

“You’re all gross,” Niall sighs. “I can’t escape.”

“You did this to yourself, you wanker!” Louis shouts through his laughter.

“What can I say?” he shrugs. “I love love.”

“So the four of you were down the beach this whole time?”

“Yep,” Ed chirps.

“You got here before us, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“And you just let us worry about you lot being stranded on the side of the road when you were actually already here, unpacking your bags, completely safe, and without car troubles of any kind?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Zayn offers, pointing at Niall. “His idea.”

Niall laughs, “I’m a brilliant actor.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re not as good as you think.”

Their friends continue to bicker with one another and compliment themselves. Louis glances down to find Harry’s eyes closed. He smiles at the sleepy boy in his arms, the slightly irritated skin of his own wrists tingling with the memory of their morning activities. Harry opens his eyes, finding Louis’ immediately. “Hi,” he whispers, offering a soft smile.

“Hi,” Louis responds, running his fingers through his hair.

“You’re putting me to sleep.”

“I’ll carry you to bed.”

“Yeah, right.” Harry chuckles.

Louis’ smile grows. “I’m very strong, Harry.”

“Okay, little one,” he says, winking before closing his eyes again.

“Um…hello?! We’re talking to you!” Niall nearly screams.

“Sorry, what?” Louis asks, tearing his eyes from Harry’s secret smile only to be hit in the face with several unidentified flying objects. “What the fuck, Niall?!” he yells as Harry shouts at an “ow!” when they land on his face.

“Figured you’d want your shoes back, perverts.”

Louis looks down, picking up his trainer he'd left on the beach the night everything changed. Harry’s sandals are on his tummy. They make eye contact and burst into laughter, Harry’s head jostling with the motion Louis’ body.

“Thank you, Niall,” Harry says dramatically.

“You’re welcome. Now get up. We brought breakfast.”

Harry groans, pulling himself up to obey Niall’s orders. Louis starts to follow him but is stopped by a lapful of Harry, his legs straddling him as he presses his lips to Louis’. “I love you,” he breathes, resting their foreheads against one another.

“I love you,” Louis whispers.

“Oi! Get your arses up now! We gave you plenty of shagging time, now it’s time for a proper lad’s holiday!” Niall barks, pulling containers of food out of bags sitting on the kitchen island.

“Fine,” Harry grumbles, shuffling out of Louis’ grip. They walk to the kitchen together, surveying the mountain of food on the counter. “Where did you get all of this?”

“The shack,” Liam says. “They do breakfast now.”

“Literally everything is fried, so brace yourself,” Zayn chuckles, obviously talking to Harry.

“I’m going to regret it later, but I couldn’t care less right now. I’m fucking starving,” Harry says, glancing down to wiggle his eyebrows at Louis, prompting embarrassingly sweet giggles from his mouth.

“Wonder why,” Ed chuckles.

“Is Louis not feeding you? Too busy with more R-rated activities, were you?” Liam purrs.

“Actually, I had a pretty satisfying little snack this morning,” Harry quips, Louis’ cheeks burning with the brightest shade of red imaginable.

“Ew! I do not want to hear about your sexcapades! I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime with these two," Niall exclaims pointing at Liam and Zayn. "I want my best mate back, please.”

The kitchen is filled with laughter and happiness, all of them excited and hungry and ready for the day. Louis leans back into his boy, his arms resting atop Harry’s where he wraps them around his stomach. Harry whispers quiet promises into his ear, his hair tickling Louis shoulder, as the boys finish unloading the food. They eat, Niall pretending to gag when “Ziam” start feeding each other, Ed ignoring everyone to focus on his eggs, and Harry wiping a spot of jam from the corner of Louis’ mouth before leaning over to kiss him gently.

The other boys are already dressed in their swimwear, buzzing with the need to jump into the cold, clear water outside. After Louis tells them to get a head start and promises they’ll be right behind them, they depart, Niall practically bouncing across the porch and into the sun.

“Thought they’d never leave,” Harry says, smiling against Louis’ lips as he pulls him closer.

“Let’s get you into some shorts that are way too tight for this sweet, little bum,” Louis says, reaching around to slap his arse before running to their bedroom.

Harry follows, laughter floating through the hallway as he stops to find clean sheets in the closet. He tosses them onto the mattress after Louis strips the bed, fixing the sheets as Louis pulls new covers on their pillows and fluffs the duvet.

“Wish we had time,” Harry growls into his ear before picking him up, Louis wrapping his legs around his hips and his arms around his neck.

“I literally still have your come on me, and you already want to go again?”

“Mhm,” Harry hums into his neck, biting gently to pull a gasp from Louis’ lips.

“You are insatiable,” Louis giggles, already short of breath.

“Can you blame me? Look at you.”

It only takes them forty-five minutes to join their friends. Harry is very convincing.

{~~~}

“I’ll be right back, baby. Just want to talk to Niall for a bit,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s perfect, pink lips twice more before lowering his legs and sliding off of him.

“Miss you,” Harry says, kissing his cheek.

“I’m not even gone yet,” Louis giggles.

“I know. Miss you already just knowing you will be.”

“Miss you, too,” he says, kissing him one final time before swimming to shore.

Niall is lying on a blanket he spread out on the sand, not having yet returned to the water after their lunch of beautifully crafted sandwiches courtesy of the most beautiful man in existence. Louis' definitely not biased.

“Hey, Tommo,” he says, looking very relaxed with his hands under his head, his elbows poking out to the side, sunglasses covering his eyes.

“You’re going to burn, Irish.”

“Probably. Don’t care.”

Louis sits beside him, wiggling his toes into the sand. He looks out toward the sea, watches as Harry and Ed take on Zayn and Liam in a game of chicken. His boy is going to lose. But he looks pretty struggling against Zayn’s weight as their arms flail against one another, their laughter carrying all the way to Louis. He looks happy.

“Thank you,” he says, keeping his eyes on Harry.

He can hear the smile in Niall’s voice when he says, “You’re welcome, man.”

He looks down, tries to see his eyes through his sunglasses. “I mean it. I don’t know if this would have happened if you hadn’t made sure of it.”

“You seem good, yeah?”

Louis smiles. “I didn’t even know I could be this happy. He keeps telling me that he can’t believe it’s real either, and I just…I don’t know. I can’t believe he loves me this much.”

“He obviously does, mate. He looks at you like you’re the sun.”

Louis’ smile widens as he looks back to find Harry falling from Ed’s shoulders to splash into the sea. “He calls me his sunshine.”

“So he  _actually_  thinks you’re the sun,” Niall chuckles. "You two are nauseating."

“Guess so,” he breathes, his eyes glued to Harry’s every movement even from so far away.

They sit in peaceful silence for a while until Niall turns over to cook his back.

“How did we not see you?”

“We were sneaky,” Niall laughs. “You almost caught us actually. The night you went to the restaurant, we were swimming when you were walking back to the house.”

Louis feels his cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Oh God, please tell me you weren’t watching.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we…that’s the night we, like…kissed. That’s the night stuff happened. And it started when we were walking home.”

“Oh! Oh, no. We were really close to the shack. We just hid behind a rock thing when we saw you. We didn’t see anything except you staring at each other like idiots. Found your shoes the next day. You snog on the beach or summat?”

“Yeah,” Louis giggles.

“Turned out to be way easier not to run into you after you finally started using your brains. You were plenty busy inside.”

Louis slaps his back, chuckling as Niall laughs below him. “Dirty boy.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before Niall lifts his head, resting his elbow against his towel. “I’m really happy for you, Lou. For both of you. I know I’m messing with you, but I want you to know that. I’d rather you stick your tongues down each other’s throats in front of me every day than be as miserable as you both were for so long.”

Louis laughs, “We can do that.”

“Shit,” Niall groans, laying his chin on his hands. “What have I done?”

Louis’ response sticks in his throat as Harry runs toward them, his feet kicking up sand behind him. He plops down beside Louis, planting a wet kiss on his cheek.

“Hi,” Louis giggles. “Saw you getting your arse kicked out there.”

Harry gasps, throwing his hand up to his chest in faux offense. “Excuse me, I am the chicken champion.”

“If nearly drowning counts as winning, then yes, you are the champion,” he teases.

Harry leans over, pushing Louis to the ground and settling on top of him. “I let them win so I could come find you and kiss you instead.”

“I’m so sure.”

Harry smiles, pressing their lips together delicately. “I love you.”

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s middle as he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue inside his mouth to glide smoothly against Harry's. The sand is warm, but Harry’s mouth is scorching, and Louis feels dizzy with it.

“All right, that’s my cue,” Niall mumbles, standing up to brush off the sand from his shorts. “Don’t really want to be here when you start moaning.” He stalks off toward the shore, leaving Harry giggling into Louis’ neck.

“Did you tell him he’s my hero?”

“I think he knows,” Louis whispers, threading his fingers through Harry's wet curls, pulling on them just hard enough to earn a nibble against his collarbone. “You talk to Liam?”

Harry giggles, lifting his lips from Louis’ skin. “He asked to be my best man.” Louis’ breath hitches, and Harry notices. He crawls forward to kiss him gently, smoothing his damp hands down the sides of Louis’ face. “No pressure.”

“Are you proposing to me?” Louis smiles, willing himself to laugh, but coming up short.

“Well, we’ve decided we’re going to live together and raise children together and that you're going to adopt Gracie, so I was thinking marriage would probably be a part of the package. Do you not want—?”

“Oh, I’m definitely marrying you. I meant are you proposing to me while you’re straddling me on the beach half-naked with our friends watching?”

Harry smiles so bright, Louis swears the sun dims behind his back. “You want to marry me?”

“Of course I want to marry you. What would our mums say if we didn’t? They’d be scandalized.”

Harry drops back to his lips, kissing him breathless. “Speaking of, we need to call them,” Harry says, still smiling. “I’ve got a few choice words for my mother because I’m pretty sure she knew more than she let on for quite a while.”

“It’s not her fault,” Louis giggles as Harry kisses him for the millionth time today.

“Could’ve been doing this months ago.”

He pushes Harry's wet hair from his face and pulls him in even closer, kissing his lips and his cheeks and his salty neck and any other part of him he can reach. “Doesn’t matter,” he whispers, the sound barely covering the soft roar of the waves in the distance. “We’re here now.”

{~~~}

The moon rises in the sky, and Louis guides an exhausted Harry to the house, their fingers intertwined, as the other boys head down the beach to collect their belongings and clean up for the new guests.

“Let’s take a bath,” Louis says, kissing him slowly, both of their bodies worn sore by their long day in the sun, their muscles tired from moving against the water as they played and swam and held onto one another tightly amidst the waves. “Then we can call our mums and go to sleep.”

Harry nods and sets to work choosing pants and loose t-shirts for them both and tidying the room, something he always does when he is overtired. Louis slips away to the loo, turning the handle on the edge of the tub to allow warm water to start filling the space. He wishes he had more, flower petals or bath salts or some type of sugar scrub that would leave Harry’s skin smelling like dessert, like he smells after a day at the café. He searches through the cabinets in vain, but is delighted to find a small collection of bath bombs in the bottom drawer he never opened before tonight. He takes one with a subtle lavender scent and drops it into the rising water, watching as it bubbles and dissolves under the surface.

He picks up his phone he brought with him for a very specific purpose, bringing up his playlist of piano covers. He lowers the volume and tries not to become too distracted by the memories he hasn’t let himself think about in a long, long time. Days of learning new songs on the piano in Harry’s home, his favorite boy draped over his shoulder as he’d read music notes hastily scribbled onto notebook paper. Harry would fall in love with a new song he heard on the radio, and Louis would learn it for him. Play it for him when he was sad. Sing it softly as he fell asleep in his arms. His heart jumps at the realization that he can do that again. He smiles as he drops his shorts and wanders back to the bedroom.

“Ready, love?” he asks quietly, gazing at the beautiful man sat on the edge of the bed. Harry nods and follows him to the loo, the warm, humid air making his hair frizzy the second he enters the room. Louis pulls his shorts from his hips, letting them fall to the tiled floor, and kisses his lips, both of them breathing the other in as they stand still for just a moment.

He guides Harry to the tub, and he quietly gasps upon seeing the water, a light purple with a hint of shimmer. “What is it?” he asks in wonder.

“Lavender. It’ll help you sleep,” Louis answers, helping him settle into the tub before climbing in in front of him to lay against his chest, his legs inside of Harry’s under the warm water.

“Feels nice,” he hums, sounding like he could fall asleep right there.

“Stay awake, love. Need to wash that gorgeous hair.”

“Ugh, no,” Harry groans as he wraps his arms around Louis' tummy.

Louis giggles, his back bumping against Harry’s wet chest. “No?”

“Don’t wanna wash it tonight. It’s just going to get dirty again in the morning. I’ll just put it up.”

Louis caresses his thighs with gentle presses of his fingertips, massaging him as well as he can in their position. He turns around carefully, kneeling between Harry’s legs, and takes his hand, pulling his hair tie from his wrist. He leans forward to kiss him, so softly it’s more like a breath against his lips, and lifts his hands to his wild hair, collecting sections of curls until his neck is bare and any flyaways are pulled back from his forehead. He pulls his hair through the tie to create a semi-neat bun on the crown of his head. Harry sighs tiredly, never looking away from Louis. He grabs Harry’s face wash and pours a small dollop into his palm, smoothing the cool cream over the soft skin of his cheeks, up to his forehead and down to his chin, moving even further to lightly cover his neck. Harry’s hands glide over his thighs to settle on his hips as he closes his eyes. He wets the flannel he draped over the edge of the tub and brings the soft material to Harry’s face to wipe away the product, leaving his skin a touch brighter.

“I don’t deserve you,” Harry whispers, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears.

Louis’ eyes widen and his brows pinch together as he tries to understand how Harry could possibly believe that. “You deserve everything. Every good thing,” he breathes. He leans closer to rest their foreheads together, listening for the sound of his breathing.

“I wish there were words past ‘I love you,’” Harry whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t feel like enough. This is more than love. And I know that…whatever it is…I know it exists. Because I feel it. I just wish there was a word for it.”

Louis pulls himself up by Harry’s shoulders, situating himself so that he is seated in Harry’s lap, his bum on his leg, his head against his collarbone. They lie there for a while, pressed against one another in the cooling water, the soft melody of a piano just barely reaching their ears.

Harry breaks their silence. “Turn around,” he murmurs into Louis’ shoulder. “I’ll wash your hair.” Louis settles back between his legs, using every bit of his strength not to lie back against him. He holds himself upright and tilts his head back as Harry pours the scented water over his head, holding his hand against his forehead to block any water from dripping into his eyes. He lathers shampoo into his hair gently but efficiently and rinses out the suds. Louis washes his face quickly before resting against him for a few more minutes before they get out, draining the cool water and wrapping each other up in fluffy, white towels.

In their bedroom, Harry drops his towel and pulls on his pyjamas before reaching for Louis, pulling him close as he stays huddled in his towel. Harry removes it from his body, Louis’ skin prickling with goosebumps in the cold air, his breath catching in his throat as Harry dresses him slowly with unwavering eye contact, slipping one of his own too-big shirts over Louis' head. How is this more intoxicating, more overwhelming, than when Harry takes his clothes  _off_?

They lie down in bed, and Harry picks up his phone to dial his mum’s number before they both fall asleep. The line rings twice before Anne’s cheery voice sounds through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mum.”

“Hi, dear. How’re things?

Harry smiles in the darkness, the moon casting the perfect amount of light for Louis to be able to memorize every shift in his expression. “Good. Someone wants to say hello.”

Louis giggles, “Hi, Anne.”

“Hi, love! Oh, I’m so happy to hear your voice, baby.”

“Need to visit soon, yeah?”

“Of course! Yes, of course.”

“Mum?” Harry hesitates.

“Yes, dear?”

“I’m…we’re calling because we have some news.”

“Okay?”

“Um…Louis and I are…together.”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart. It’s about time.”

“Yeah, just…wanted you to know,” he says awkwardly as both of them laugh silently, Louis hiding his face in his pillow.

“Oh, Louis,” Anne says. He turns back toward the phone laid on the bed between their chests. “Your mum wants to speak with you.”

Harry snorts out a laugh. “Of course they’re together,” he whispers. “They’ve been holed up, drinking wine, waiting for this call for days.”

Louis is still giggling when he hears his mum’s beautiful voice. “Hello, my darling.”

“Hi, mum,” Louis breathes, his heart beating sporadically with joy.

“I hear I have my favorite son-in-law back.”

“Hi, Jay,” Harry says through a smile.

“Hi, baby. I expect to see both of you when you get home.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry says.

“You boys sound exhausted. Get some rest, loves.”

“Love you, Mum,” Louis says, proving her right with a yawn.

“Love you, too, baby bear. I’ll see you soon.”

Harry ends the call, placing his phone on the bedside table behind him.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Harry says, repressing a yawn of his own.

“I love you,” Louis says, his voice tinted with a hint of urgency.

“I love you, too…” Harry says hesitantly, almost like a question, obviously confused at his outburst.

Louis shuffles closer, pressing their bodies together under the sheets. He grips Harry’s shirt in his fists, needing to feel him, and looks into his eyes as well as he can in the darkness. “What you said in the tub…I understand. I could never explain to you in words how much I love you. What you are to me.”

Harry runs his fingers through Louis' damp hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and just listens.

“You saved me. I don’t know who I would be if I’d never found you, but I wouldn’t be me. Parts of me were made by you. And I don’t know how to ever repay you for giving me a second chance to be that person.”

A tear falls from Harry’s eye, sliding down his nose and dropping onto the bed below. “Sometimes I look at you, and it hurts,” he sniffles. “Like deep in my chest, just this horrible, painful,  _amazing_  ache. Because I look at you, and you tell me you love me, and I love you so much, it makes me feel sick. Like I can’t breathe and I have a fever and a tummy ache.”

Louis laughs, hot tears falling to his pillow. “I don’t want to make you sick.”

“It’s that feeling that’s more than love.”

“Feels like your insides are lighting up and you look down and feel surprised when your skin isn’t glowing,” Louis says, letting him know that he understands. “Like there’s a fire in your belly and stars in your head and wind in your lungs.”

Harry smiles, wiping the tears from Louis’ eyes. “I feel like I’ve got the universe inside me when I look at you.”

“I think you’re made of moonlight,” Louis breathes, cradling Harry’s face, his palm wet with tears. He runs his fingertip across his plush lips so delicately it feels like an act of worship, of supplication. “Sometimes I’m afraid you’re going to turn to silver dust and blow away.”

Harry kisses him softly, smoothing his hair back from his face. “My mum used to tell Gemma and me this story at bedtime. About how the sun and the moon are in love and they don’t always get to be together, but it’s okay because they see each other shining. They love one another so much that that’s all that matters. And twice a day they race to each other, knowing they only have time for a single kiss before they must part.”

“That’s so sad.”

Harry shakes his head over so slightly, smiling softly. “It’s beautiful.”

Harry lies on his back, Louis repositioning himself to lay against him, tangling their feet under the sheets. “That was my favorite story because on nights you didn’t stay with me, I would lie in bed after you’d gone home, and I’d miss you so much, I could barely stand it. Sometimes I’d ask my mum to tell me the story, and she would play with my hair and whisper the words until I fell asleep. It gave me peace knowing I would see you when the sun came up. I’d get my sunshine back.”

Louis hums, a subtle smile creeping onto his lips as he rests on Harry’s chest, his head moving with every rise and fall of his steady breathing. “How do you explain this then? That I’m here now, with your moonbeams shining in through the window?”

Harry looks down to catch Louis watching him through his eyelashes. He smiles, those bright green eyes still shimmering with tears.  “I guess they finally held on tight enough.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to have to tell y'all this, but my summer term just started and I'm already busy with assignments, so the updates will be every few days for awhile. Hope no one minds too much! I promise I'll never make you wait more than three or four days tops! Anyway, hope you enjoy. All my love! <3

Louis wakes to a gentle pitter-patter on the window and a warm, familiar body curled up against his chest.  Harry is snoring quietly, his fingertips twitching against Louis’ arm draped over his torso as if he is trying to act out a dream.  Louis presses his nose to Harry’s shoulder and breathes in his morning scent.  He’s always smelled like this on quiet, rainy mornings.  Like clean skin and laundry detergent, like summer dewdrops and flowers warmed by the sun.  His hair still pulled into a loose bun smells of salt water, and Louis can’t get enough.  Harry always slept better with the sound of soft rain outside and a certain boy holding him, keeping him dry and warm and safe.  He really hasn’t changed so much.

Louis listens to the melody of the water hitting sand and colliding with the window, waiting patiently for his boy to wake.  Any minute now, he’ll get to see those green eyes.  Harry will smile at him, and his dimples will deepen.  Maybe he’ll press a kiss to Louis’ little cluster of freckles he loves so much before he kisses his lips.  Louis smiles as he imagines him waking up and kissing him immediately, only to pull back a few minutes later to apologize for his morning breath.  Louis loves his morning breath.  His morning breath means that he’s here and has been all night.  It means this is real.

Thunder rumbles outside, the sound muffled by the walls around them, and a quick flash of light brightens the room, still dark in the morning hours with the clouds in the sky and thick sheets of rain blocking out the sun.  Harry shifts under Louis’ arm, his breathing no longer steady with sleep.  He turns over to face Louis, his eyes still closed and his brows pinched together in exhaustion.  “Morning,” he mumbles, trying to bury his face inside of Louis’s chest, his nose squishing against his sternum through his shirt.

“Morning, baby,” Louis whispers, tucking a few loose pieces of hair behind Harry’s ear.

“’S raining.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

Louis’ heart skips a beat or maybe two at the care in his voice.  He’s okay.  Harry knows his secrets.  He knows what the rain does.  What it used to do to him.  He knows, and he still loves him.  And Louis is okay.

“Why would I be scared of the rain when I’ve got you to keep me safe?”

Harry’s eye not pressed to Louis’ pillow opens slowly, searching for his face.  “I’ll protect you, little one.”

Louis shuffles down the bed, bringing his face even with Harry’s.  “My hero.”

Harry smiles and repositions himself, opening both of his eyes and moving closer.  “I love you.”  His voice is deep and raspy and heavy with sleep, and Louis feels dizzy.

“I love you,” he breathes against Harry’s lips as he moves to kiss him.  Louis leans into it until the back of Harry’s head is pressed to the sheets.  He climbs on top of him and kisses him harder, sparks jumping between them as their bodies rest together.  His hands move to Harry’s neck, his fingernails dragging gently through the hair along the base of his skull.  Harry shivers, a quiet moan slipping from his lips.  Louis swallows his noise and prays for more as he feels Harry’s tongue move against his own.  They move together in a practiced dance, perfected so long ago, their memories not failing them even on that first night and certainly not now.

Louis pulls away just enough to take in a shaky breath and watches as Harry’s pupils grow the longer he looks at him.  “I could never tire of this,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to Harry’s cheek and nipping at the column of his throat, pulling more heavenly noises out of the beautiful man below him.

Harry’s hands slide up the smooth skin of his hips, tickling over his ribs and his arms around Harry’s neck.  “What’s your favorite thing about me?”

Louis cocks an eyebrow, looking up at him and brings himself higher to hold his lips over Harry’s, just out of reach.  “Is this dirty talk or you being a sap?  I need to know which direction to take it in.”

Harry smiles, lifting his head for another kiss.  Louis denies him playfully, moving with him.  He rolls his eyes, “I’m serious.  I wonder sometimes.  Wish I could see myself the way you see me.”

“Do you have a favorite thing about me?”

“I have a lot of favorites.”

“Tell me.”

“I asked you first.”

Louis keeps his eyes on Harry’s.  He already knows.  He doesn’t have to ponder.  “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?” Harry asks.

Louis nods.  “They’re like meadows, and the little specks of gold,” he says, dotting his fingertips around Harry’s eye, “flowers among the tallest, greenest grass you could ever imagine.  I feel alive when I look into your eyes.  I feel free.”  Fresh tears fill those beautiful eyes as Louis talks, and he feels his own throat tighten around his confessions.  “I feel like I’m home.”

Harry smiles weakly, but he doesn’t speak.  So Louis continues.  “Love that you take care of the people you love.  Love that you eat more fruit than any one person probably should.  Love that you’ve always been yourself, unashamed and proud and happy with who you are.  Love your curls,” he coos.  “Love how wild they are.  Like your heart.”

“I have a wild heart?” Harry breathes out on a quiet laugh.

“The prettiest, wildest heart.  I love that you just…love.  You just give people love and light and joy.  And I don’t know what I ever did to deserve to be at the center of that storm, but if your love is the prize, I’d stand in the rain for a lifetime.”

“Poetic,” Harry smiles, the sound of the literal storm raging outside washing over them, light and shadows dancing across their skin above the sheets draped over their hips.  He pulls Louis closer, kissing him sweetly before taking in a deep breath.  “I love how much you’ve always loved your family.  Even as a snarky teenager, you loved them and protected them.  You’re like that with everyone.  Niall, Ed, even Liam and Zayn now, and you only just met them.  You put others before yourself.  You’re the most selfless, kind, generous person I’ve ever met.  You love to a fault.”

The lump in Louis’ throat grows to a startling size, choking off his air as he whispers, “I love you the most.”

Harry smiles, “I love _you_ the most.”  Louis kisses his lips, and Harry pulls away much too soon.  “I’m not done.”

Louis giggles, “Sorry, please continue.”

“I love how smart you are.  Not just in the school sense, but like…you can always figure out how to fix problems, most of the time to make other people happy.  You’re so witty and artistic.  I love the face you make when you’re concentrating on homework, or now on your lesson plans.  You make the same face when you play the piano.  Your eyebrows quirk just a little, and sometimes you bite your lip.  I used to watch you for hours when you’d be sitting at the bench scribbling down notes and words that would become melodies and lyrics.  You thought I was watching television or reading on the couch, but I wasn’t.  I was watching you make that face so it would be clearer in my mind when I dreamt of it at night.”

“Sneaky boy,” Louis smiles.

“My favorite tangible thing is—”

“My arse?” he interrupts, cocking an eyebrow.

Harry laughs brightly, “No!  I do think of things other than your bum, y’know.  Perfect as it may be.”

Louis matches his grin, their teeth nearly clacking together in their closeness.

“My little freckles?”

Harry’s laugh quiets into a chuckle, “Am I that obvious?”

“You are, my love.”

Harry presses his thumb against Louis’ cheek, his other hand running through his hair.  “The moon would be so lonely without his stars.”

“You’re getting your metaphors all tangled up,” Louis says breathlessly.  “I thought I was the sun?”

“The sun is a star.  And it holds on to a few smaller ones it stole from the moon to keep them close even when they’re apart.  Holds them right here, so the moon can always see and know they’re going to be all right.”

“Is that the story?” Louis teases with a smirk.

“It’s our story.”

“You don’t even make sense.”

“My brain gets kind of foggy when you’re on top of me.”

“Noted,” he says with a sly wink, prompting some kind of half-groan, half-giggle from Harry.  “I’m hungry, let’s have breakfast and come back to bed.  The boys can entertain themselves, they’ve been doing it for days now.”

“Actually, if you really think about it, we’ve been their entertainment this whole time.”

Louis laughs as he lifts himself from Harry’s body and slides off of the bed, padding across the room to slip into one of Harry’s jumpers and grab socks for them both, having felt just how cold Harry’s feet were under the covers.  “Guess you’re right.”

“I want to play board games and eat those treats you bought and cuddle with you under a blanket while our friends take the piss the whole day.”

“Sounds brilliant, my love,” Louis says, any other words cut off when Harry stands and presses their lips together.  Louis reaches up and tugs at his hair tie, letting Harry’s still-damp curls fall to his shoulders.  “Don’t want you to get a headache.”

Harry bends down just slightly and rest his chin on Louis’ shoulder.  They stand cheek-to-cheek, breathing in the scent of soap and sweat and love and promises hiding in the creases of one another’s sleep-warm necks.

“You are the love of my life,” Harry whispers.

Louis holds him tighter, wishing he could somehow get closer.  He pictures their bodies melting into one, flesh fusing and bones cracking pleasantly to accommodate the other's.

The thought scares him.  The intensity of it.  The feeling to have Harry so completely, so irrevocably.  He blinks out a single tear and feels it travel down his cheek to hit the back of Harry’s neck.  He knows he must feel it because not a full second later, his arms leave Louis’ waist and he pulls away just enough to bring them face-to-face.  He places his palms on either side of Louis’ face and kisses him.  He doesn’t relent until Louis breathes out a laugh, moistening Harry’s lips further with a burst of hot air.  “I’m okay, mind reader.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“I want a smoothie.”

Louis nods and opens the door, all too happy to follow Harry through the hallway and across the dim living room until he stops in the kitchen.  He gets to work, chopping up berries and bananas, nearly shouting with excitement as he discovers the large tub of yogurt the boys must have brought over, pointing gleefully at the rather fancy blender he found in a cabinet under the island.  He looks so pretty, and Louis can’t do anything but stare.

He pulls his phone out of the pocket on Harry’s jumper and snaps a quick photo as he slices through a banana, a contemplative expression on his face.  Harry glances up at the sound of the camera shutter and smiles that silly lopsided smile Louis fell in love with nearly twelve years ago.  “What are you looking at, you loon?” he asks.  His cheeks turn rosy, and Louis can see his secret delight.

He smiles, keeping his eyes on Harry’s as he says the truest words he’s ever had the nerve to utter, the privilege to say out loud.  “The love of my life.”


	42. Chapter 42

Louis is lying back against Harry’s chest, both of their legs splayed out across the sofa.  They share the fruity concoction Harry made so brilliantly, sucking in the bright, tart flavors through two straws, Harry holding on to the cold glass and bringing it down to Louis’ lips every time he gently pinches his arm.  Harry presses soft kisses to his hair, murmuring sweet words all the while.  Confessions and reminders and promises.

They’ve forgotten their smoothie for a few minutes, Harry having set the glass on the coffee table when Louis turned in his arms and breathed against his lips, when they hear a door creak open around the corner in the hallway.  Liam stumbles in tiredly, wiping his eyes and yawning.

“Good morning,” he says cheerfully after one last stretch that seems to do the trick.

“Morning, Li,” Harry sighs, pulling a giggly Louis back against his chest.  “Sorry we passed out before you got back last night.  I nearly fell asleep in the tub.  How late were you?”

“Well, Niall is the messiest shit I’ve ever met, so we had to clean more than we should have had to for only being there a few days.”  Louis nods knowingly, and Liam laughs.  “But we were only a few hours.  Figured you two would be out cold by the time we arrived.  No big deal, mate.  Just happy we’re all under one roof now.”

“Your boy still sleeping?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, he sleeps like the dead,” Liam laughs.

“Grab some breakfast and come sit with us,” Harry says, his voice cracking when Louis leans his head back to nip at his neck.  Quietly, only for Louis, he adds, “Behave.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to either.  Not really.”

“I love you,” he says, pressing his lips against his skin one more time before relaxing in his arms.

Their hushed conversation finished, Louis calls out to Liam, asking if he wants to watch television.

“I’d rather talk to you two lovebirds.  Missed you,” he says, walking back to the living room and falling into a chair beside the sofa, facing them.

“Aww,” Harry coos.  “We missed you, too.”

“I didn’t miss you,” Louis says with a smirk.

“Wow, thanks.  I can really feel the love.”

“I was a bit too distracted to miss anyone really,” he says, running his fingers over the soft skin of Harry’s tattooed arm wrapped around his chest.  “But I’m glad you’re here now.  All of you.  And I wanted to thank you for tricking us.”

Liam chuckles, popping a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.  He swallows and says, “Necessary evil.  That’s what Niall called it.”

“Niall’s an idiot.  But this was a good call.”

Liam smiles his pure puppy dog smile.  “I’m glad you two finally figured it out.”

“I’m glad you gave us a few days to have sex all over this house,” Harry retorts.

Louis blushes and barks out a laugh of surprise and embarrassment, lifting his arm to press his palm gently against Harry’s face, blocking any more words from leaving his mouth.  “We’ve kept it to the bedroom, please don’t believe a word he says.”

“Just let me know if I need to disinfect anything,” Liam says.

The three of them are still laughing quietly as Niall and Ed leave their room to argue in the hallway over who gets to wee first until Niall simply walks in and slams the door in Ed’s face victoriously.  Ed peeks around the corner with a slightly frantic “good morning” before rushing into the loo the second Niall opens the door.  Niall laughs and walks to the kitchen, digging through the fridge and all of the cabinets as if he doesn’t know what they’ve got to eat.  He finds the small collection of sweets from the market and takes a lemon bar, unwrapping it with a devilish smile as he wanders back to the living room.

“Oi, Neil!  Grab those caramels for me, yeah?” Louis pleads.

Niall rolls his eyes at the name but hums around the treat stuffed in his mouth and returns to the kitchen to grab the small paper bag Louis requested.  He plops down in an overstuffed armchair and tosses the bag in their direction, Harry catching it before it hits Louis in the face.

Ed ventures into the living room and they talk about their days spent on opposite sides of the beach.  Louis and Harry ask their friends what they did other than spy on them and learn that Liam tried to teach Zayn how to surf and that Zayn was awful at surfing but great at kissing.  Ed and Niall had discovered that they quite liked playing around as a songwriting duo, both of them having brought their guitars and an equal level of annoyance with the lovers with whom they shared a house.

No one asks what Louis and Harry have been up to.  The way Louis is relaxed against his boys chest, Harry’s soft hands trailing invisible flames over his skin, is enough of an answer.  The way they feed one another caramels like there’s not another soul in the room, warm fingers pressed to warmer lips, tells them all they need to know.

Zayn eventually wakes and joins them, sliding gracefully into Liam’s lap in the large chair he claimed earlier.  Louis lifts himself over Harry’s leg and settles between his body and the couch, laying his head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat as the two boys in the chair coo at each other.  Harry brushes Louis’ fringe back from his eyes and runs a single fingertip over the curve of his ear, and Louis shivers with the knowledge that Harry is probably thinking the same thing.

Before this trip, before the night Louis stood before Harry, his toes slipping into the sand, and told him how strongly he loved him, before the night Harry took Louis into his arms and carried him through the rain before it flooded Louis’ heart, this would have been painful.  It _had_ been painful before, to watch their friends, not in an entirely different situation than themselves, find each other again and be so obviously in love.  It was heartbreaking because every time they’d kiss across a room, he’d find himself searching for Harry.  And every time, Harry was looking right back at him.  He breathes out a quiet laugh, adding one more thing to the list of proofs of Harry’s love that had been disguised under too many layers of his own hurt and fear and desperation.

Louis glances up, tilting his chin when Harry follows his movement to ask silently for a kiss.  Their friends are focused on Niall’s retelling of an old Irish legend he speaks of every time it rains.  Harry kisses him, his palm warming Louis’ cheek.

“I’m going to apologize for something, but I don’t really mean it as an apology.  I’m just…I’m just saying it.  So that you know.  So please don’t throw me in the sea again.  It’s cold and raining, and I would have to kill you.  And that would make me very, very sad.”

Harry chuckles, “What’s on your mind, sweetcheeks?”

Louis smiles.  “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“It’s a classic, I’m bringing it back,” he says, sealing their lips together again, kissing him unhurriedly as their friends chatter on around them.  Louis doesn’t know what they’re talking about anymore, but it cannot possibly be more important than this.  Everything pales in comparison to the significance of Harry’s lips on his, whispering love into his ears, biting promises into his skin.

“Don’t distract me,” Louis whispers, pulling back for air.

“Sorry,” Harry smiles.  He’s not sorry at all.  “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry for not seeing you.  For not listening.  In hindsight, I can hear the songs you sang at the pub and the words that would slip when you were tired or sick, I can see the way you looked at me.  I’m sorry I didn’t know at the time.  I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“It’s okay.”

“I was an idiot.”

“I was a coward.”

Louis watches the light flicker in Harry’s eyes as he follows the movement of Louis’ lips.  “Promise me,” he says.

“Anything.”

“Promise me we won’t lose this again.  I couldn’t bear it.”

Harry lifts him a bit higher, his hands pulling him up by his underarms.  He kisses him in that special way he always has.  Gentle and loving but wholly inescapable.  “I promise.”

Louis pulls away, giggling quietly, his joy overwhelming.  He lays his head back on Harry’s chest and breathes out a burst of air he wasn’t aware he had been holding in his lungs, making him dizzy.

Everyone is looking at them, smiling softly, knowingly.  Louis just closes his eyes and snuggles closer to Harry, completely undisturbed by their audience.

The rest of the boys eat breakfast, and Liam and Zayn decide to run outside into the rain, probably to make out, and Ed flips on the television.  Louis lies in Harry’s arms, the movie playing across the room drowned out with Harry’s soft exhalations that move his hair like the lightest spring breeze.

Niall manages to coax them out of their sanctuary to play Monopoly, but two rounds is enough for both of them, and they make their way back to the sofa, no longer concerned about a board game when they’ve got one another’s lips to attend to.

“Oh!” Louis remembers, lifting his head to peek over Harry’s body as they lie face to face, Louis’ back against the sofa and Harry’s to Ed and Niall sprawled out on the floor.  He takes a moment to wiggle his eyebrows at the drenched couple running through the front door, silently applauding their timing to witness his very important announcement.  “Ed, you said your family has a boat, yeah?  Do you know if there’s any fishing equipment lying around here?”

Ed perks up immediately, nodding animatedly.  “Yeah, we have poles.  Need to get bait, though.  There’s a shop up the road a bit.”

“We thought we’d try catching some dinner.  And my Hazzah here makes the best homemade chips in the world.”

“That sounds sick!” Niall exclaims.

“We’re in!” Liam shouts from the hallway as they head to their room to change into dry clothes.

“Tomorrow morning?” Harry asks.  “We’ve only got two days left in this paradise, unfortunately.  We'll head out bright and early, and this little cutie can help me cut potatoes when we get back,” he says, gently pinching Louis’ arse.

“I can do the fish!” Niall says, much too excitedly.

“You can do the fish?” Louis asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Like clean ‘em and shit.  Used to fish with my uncle.”

“Right-o,” Ed says, clapping his hands together before standing to grab another beer from the refrigerator.  Of course he grabs one for Niall, too.

Everyone seems to be as content as Louis and Harry to lie around doing nothing all day, so Louis focuses once again on Harry’s breathing, his fingers against his back where Harry has lifted his jumper, his skin exposed to the cool air and Harry’s warm touch, and the slow sound of his heartbeat, beating steadily, peacefully.

“Hey, Lou.  Knock-knock,” Harry says.

Louis can hear his smile, can feel it pressed to the top of his head.  This is going to be terrible.

“Who’s there?”

“Olive.”

Louis smiles as he remembers the first time Harry ever tried this one out.  Louis had told him it was his favorite, so from that moment on, Harry had used it almost exclusively.  It had been the closest they had ever come before to saying the words they really wanted to say.

“Olive who?”

“Olive you,” he whispers, planting a kiss in his hair and holding him even tighter.

“You are the cheesiest man on this planet, Harry Styles.”

“I’m okay with that,” he whispers, his hand pressed firmly against Louis’ chest, directly above his wildly beating heart.  “As long as you love me, Louis Tomlinson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna make my day? Chat with me in the comments or on [Tumblr](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com/ask)! Please feel free to reblog my [post](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com/post/159921846419/larryandgaystuff-petrichor-by-larryandgaystuff) for this fic if you love reading it as much as I love writing it!


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. I'm back at school, and on top of those responsibilities, my mental health hasn't been in tip-top shape as of late. Please be patient with me. I'm trying my best. :) Hope you all are still enjoying my little story (that isn't actually so little anymore). Thanks for reading and leaving me the kindest, funniest, sweetest, most encouraging comments. You guys really keep me going. <3

Louis wakes to lopsided hearts being drawn on his chest with soft fingers and sweet nothings being whispered in his ear.  He smiles before he can even think to open his eyes, snuggling back into Harry’s warmth.

“Morning, baby,” Harry breathes, sighing quietly over his skin.

“Mmm,” Louis hums, “best morning.”

“Nothing’s even happened yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.  You’re here.”

Harry places quick, sweet kisses to the back of his neck, his breath warm and consistent.  “I never want to wake up without you again.”

“Not sure that’s realistic, love,” Louis whispers, turning over to face him, giving him a soft, sleepy smile.

“Hi,” Harry says upon meeting his eyes for the first time.

“Hi.  Kisses, please.”

Harry complies, kissing him softly, gently until Louis crawls on top of him and deepens the kiss.  The cool, crisp sheets tangle around their legs as they slip down Louis’ elevated hips.  He moves against Harry’s body teasingly slowly, grinding into him through two layers of clothing.  Harry’s breathing picks up, matching Louis’ own.

“You drive me crazy,” Harry smiles, nearly giggling, gasping as his eyes flutter shut.

“I want to eat you whole right now.”

“You’ve got about twenty minutes before the boys force us into shorts and onto that boat.  So, y’know…chop chop and all that.”

Louis laughs wickedly.  “I can work with that.”

{~~~}

It’s actually only fifteen minutes before Niall is bursting through their bedroom door, shrieking about the sun shining and fish jumping and time flying as they dare to snog in bed, wasting the day away.

After a quick breakfast of fruit and toasted croissants, Liam and Zayn head out to buy bait for their fishing excursion and Louis and Harry join Ed and Niall in loading the equipment and the sandwiches Harry fixed for everyone onto the boat.  He’d magically created a delicious spread using the yogurt in the refrigerator and a small collection of herbs found in the cabinets.  Louis had watched in wonder, distracting his sweet little chef with kisses every few seconds.  Harry had smiled, his dimples on display, and Louis’ thumb had found its favorite spot.  Louis had not been wrong.  It was definitely the best morning.  Every morning is now.

They push off the shore as the sun just starts to rise on the horizon.  Wind whips around them as they travel further out to sea, and Louis sits pressed to his boy as his curls get tossed around in the misty air.

Niall had overplayed his fishing skills.  Zayn could not possibly care less, more concerned with sketching pieces of the boat or sections of the sky or all of Liam’s body on the pad he brought.  On a fishing trip.  As you do.  Liam and Ed actually catch a few fish each, one of them jumping from Ed’s hands to slap Harry across the face, its slippery body sliding over his cheek as he screams in shock and disgust.  Louis laughs only for a moment before shushing him with kisses and soft fingers trailing up his sun-warmed back.  Overall, they are successful, hauling in a cooler full of fish for dinner.

Harry pulls Louis into the kitchen the moment they enter the house to start on the chips while the rest of the boys deal with everything else, splitting up into their usual teams to clean and cook the fish and store the boat and the poles.

Louis slacks off on his slicing job to watch Harry as he casually mixes together herbs and spices, not even bothering to measure them.

“Hazzah.”

“Yeah, babe?”

Louis smiles, wonders if he’ll ever not smile when Harry calls him that.  Like it’s no big deal.  Like it’s not everything he’s wanted since he met him.

“We’re going to spend our lives together.”

Harry looks up and smiles.  “Yeah.”

“We’re going to have babies and they’ll turn into kids and then teenagers, and we’re going to be dads.  We’re going to be a family.  I’m going to have a family with you.”

“You’re just now figuring this out?” he asks with a smirk as he turns to wash his hands.  Before Louis can think up a response, Harry is pressing against his back, nuzzling into his neck and wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be used to it.  Think I’ll have to pinch meself every morning to remember it’s real.”

“Gracie’s still a young lady.  Wonder how she’ll take to toddlers running around the house when the time comes.”

“We can have her practice with Ernie and Doris.”

“She’s never going to love me the same again.  Not when you’re always around.  I can’t believe you’re stealing my dog away from me.”

Louis turns around in his arms, wiping his hands on Harry’s apron.  “I’ll make sure she still loves you as much as I do.”

Harry leans down to kiss him, just as soft and sweet as always.  “What else do you want?”

Louis hums thoughtfully, kissing him twice more before answering, “Sometimes I’d think about…in my imaginary world, my alternate universe I created where you loved me and I’d never left and we were happy and we grew old together…I saw you cooking for us.  For our family.  We had a little boy named Oliver and a baby girl named Rosalind.  We’d call her Rose.  Gracie wasn’t there, I’d pictured a cat.  But I was wrong.  And there was this particular scene I’d always go back to.  I became sort of fixated on this one moment in time that I had no real reason to believe would ever happen.  I’d walk into the kitchen of some house I’d never seen before, dressed in boxers and one of your t-shirts, your Stones one actually, and our kids would turn around from the table and say, ‘Good morning, Daddy.’  And I’d kiss them on the top of their heads and smell their hair, and you’d kiss me.  You’d hold me so tight and kiss me.  And then you’d give me a bite of whatever you were whipping up with your cute little apron on.  It was white with flowers.  Your hair was messy because you’d been more concerned about getting the kids fed and dressed and ready for the day.  And I’d say ‘Thank you, Papa’ to remind them to always be grateful for you.”

“And my amazing French toast.”

“Heavenly French toast.”

“I like those names,” Harry says with a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.  I’d be the luckiest man in the world if I could make breakfast for Oliver and Rose and their daddy every morning for the rest of forever.”

“Sometimes we’ll fight,” Louis says, a smile still on his face.

“I can’t wait to fight with you.”

Louis slaps his chest gently, “Well, you could be a little less enthusiastic about it.”

“Just means it’s real.  We’re together and it’s real.  We’re going to build a life together, and I’m going to get on your nerves and you’re going to piss me off.  And I’ll love every fucking second of it.  Because it’s real.”

Louis giggles, “Plus, makeup sex.”

Harry hums, “Mmm, yeah.  Makeup sex.”  He dips in to kiss his neck, nipping at the bruise he’d left this morning.  “Kind of want to pick a fight with you right now just so we can do it.”

“So we can ‘do it?’  Who are you?”  Louis laughs.

“The love of your life, if I’m remembering correctly.”

After another round of kisses, Louis asks, “What do you want?”

Harry pulls away to speak, his arms resting on Louis’ shoulders, his own around Harry’s waist.  “We’ll buy a house somewhere quiet.  With a garden full of flowers and herbs and vegetables I can use to cook you those breakfasts you’re so excited about,” he chuckles, pinching his neck softly, eliciting a shiver to run down Louis’ spine.  “And tall windows to let the sunshine in, and a room big enough for the piano I’ll buy you for our fifth wedding anniversary that you’ll play lullabies on.”

“You’ll write some, too.  Play them on your guitar when I’m putting our babies to bed.”

“We’ll embarrass them with those stories when they’re sixteen and they think they hate us.”

Louis laughs, “You’re going to be the embarrassing parent.  We both know it’s true.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry giggles.  “They’ll love me anyway.”

“We will,” Louis breathes, reaching up for another kiss.  “Always.”

“I can’t believe…my whole life, my whole future is suddenly so different.  You know what I mean?  I like…I can’t even really grasp onto the idea yet.  That this is my life now.  You’re my life now.  Again.”

Tears well in Louis’ eyes, Harry’s thumbs wiping them away before they have a chance to fall.  He closes his eyes and burrows his face into the crook of his shoulder, smelling his salty, sweaty skin as Harry’s hands come up to smooth his hair.

The boys interrupt them about twenty minutes into their reverie, twenty minutes since either of them has said a word, just holding one another close.  Dinner is eventually served.  It is, of course, delicious.  And Harry, of course, cannot keep his eyes off of Louis for more than two seconds at a time as he nudges him under the table for over an hour.  Louis’ hand finds Harry’s to rest in his lap when Harry mouths Louis’ three favorite words like it’s some kind of secret.  Like everyone doesn’t know just how in love they are.

They’re leaving before the sun sets tomorrow, so they pack everything but pyjamas, bathing suits, and sweats for the long drive home.  They clean the kitchen, just enough food left for one more day, and tidy the living room.  Tomorrow is reserved for fun and relaxation, swimming and kissing and cuddling and laughing and more kissing.

Everyone is exhausted, naturally.  They had an eventful day.  An hour later, they’ve all showered efficiently, four of them in pairs, and retired to their bedrooms.

Harry doesn’t waste a moment before swinging Louis away from the door and tossing him onto the bed, following immediately, pinning a giggling Louis to the duvet, kissing him senseless like that’s not exactly what he spent the majority of the day doing.

“I’m not even sad to leave,” he says.

“I know,” Louis says.  “I’m just excited.”

“The beginning of the rest of our lives.”

“I miss Gracie.  I love her more than you.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.  She misses you, too.  I can sense it.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Louis laughs as Harry maneuvers him, lying down behind him and sliding his hand over his waist and across his tummy, up to his chest.

“So how are we going to do this?”

“Do what?”

“We don’t live together at the moment, but I really don’t want to not be with you.  We need to make some sort of plan, yeah?  We can’t just say we’re going to live together and expect it to happen magically.”

Louis lifts his hand to slip his fingers through Harry’s splayed out over his nipple.

“We can stay at yours tomorrow night after we pick up Gracie, and we’ll talk to Liam and Zayn, let them know what’s going on.  I meant what I said, I want you to move into my flat.  We can start moving your stuff out as soon as we wake up that morning if you want.  And I’m obviously able to pay rent, so even if you need to help Li out for a bit longer, that’s fine.”

Harry presses soft kisses to his shoulder and the side of his neck and the top of his spine as he speaks.  “Gonna wake you up with blowies and heavenly French toast every morning, sunshine.”

“You better.”

He slides his hands up Louis’ sides, tickling him with the lightest touch of his fingers, pulling a shout and loud giggles from his mouth.

Louis can only think of one way to retaliate.  Harry doesn’t seem to mind all that it involves.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! Again, I'm so sorry for the slower updates, but I hope you like this! More to come soon, I promise!  
> Thank you so, so, so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos and hitting me up on [Tumblr](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com)! I love y'all silly. <3

_Louis lies in bed, Harry’s bed more specifically, waiting for his boy to come back.  He had left much too soon after they had woken up, untangling himself from Louis and kissing his lips gently before climbing out of bed and going downstairs.  He had said he needed to speak with his mum about something, but he hadn’t said what._

_Louis kind of, sort of, maybe thinks he knows.  He thinks he knows what Harry wants, why it’s something he feels he needs to talk to Anne about.  Louis has discussed the same thing, or what he’s hoping is the same thing, with his own mum._

_He keeps telling himself that they’ve reached that point in their relationship.  Louis is nearly eighteen and Harry nearly sixteen, it’s not like they’re not old enough.  It’s not like they don’t both want it.  It’s just…are they even in a relationship?  It feels like they are.  If someone asked, he’d say yes.  Harry would, too, he imagines._

_The only problem that creates any doubt in his mind is the reminder in bright, flashing lights in his head that they don’t say that one word anymore.  The one word Louis wants to say more than anything.  They had said it before, sure, but the weight behind it now, the meaning, is startlingly changed.  Harry knows, too, of course he does.  Because he doesn’t say it either, hasn’t since they kissed in the café that day, their skin covered with sweat and glitter and lips tasting of sugar from the treats they’d snuck while they’d cleaned up their warzone.  And now it’s gone on too long, the pressure behind letting that word fall from their mouths built up to a frightening strength.  It shouldn’t be this hard._

_Are they even in a relationship if they don’t say “I love you?”  Is the fact that Louis wants nothing more desperately than to show that to Harry in a physical way completely inappropriate?  He thinks this is exactly what Harry is doing downstairs at this very moment, trying to validate this need that Louis knows they both feel._

_Before he can work himself into an emotional lather, Harry returns, walking somewhat hesitantly to the bed and lowering himself on top of Louis._

_“Hi,” he whispers._

_“Missed you,” Louis breathes._

_“Missed you, too.”  He goes in for a kiss, and Louis doesn’t plan to react this way, but he pulls back, pressing his head further into his pillow.  Harry’s pillow that he stole during the night because it’s fluffier and Harry doesn’t mind because they always end up sharing anyway._

_Harry’s eyes flutter open, confusion and a pinch of hurt shining in the clear green of his irises.  “What’s wrong?”_

_“What were you talking to your mum about?”_

_Harry’s cheeks look like they are burning.  “You.”_

_Louis wants to just forget this conversation and kiss him, quiet both of their nerves, let it happen naturally to avoid this awkwardness, but he knows, somewhere in the back of his sleep-and-lust-hazy brain he knows that that is a bad idea.  They’ve always talked.  That’s what works._

_“What about me?”_

_He’s pretty sure Harry’s face is about to catch on fire.  “Erm…”Harry mumbles, lifting himself from Louis’ body and sitting back on his legs between Louis’, “talked to her about wanting to…y’know.  With you.”_

_“Baby, I need you to say it.”_

_“Are you making fun of me?”_

_Louis’ eyebrows furrow, little lines sprouting on his forehead in shock and worry.  “Never.  Come on, you know I’d never do that.  I just think I know what’s going on inside your curly brain, and I want you to be sure.  And that starts with you being able to say the words out loud.  It’s just me, Haz.”_

_Harry watches him speak, his pupils following the movement of Louis’ lips.  He meets his eyes again and says, what feels like infinities later, “Wanna shag.”_

_Louis can’t help the laugh that escapes his throat and rolls over his tongue at this shy, eager boy with the cutest little frown on his face.  “Louiiiisssss,” Harry whines, covering his face with his hands._

_Louis grabs his wrists and pulls his hands down, giving himself access to those beautiful eyes again.  “I’m not making fun of you.  I want that, too.  Just wasn’t expecting such a direct answer.”_

_Harry smiles, some of his fear seeming to leak out of him.  “Yeah?”_

_“’Course, petal.”_

_“You want to, uh…now?”_

_“Maybe not the smartest plan seeing as your mum probably suspects it right at this very moment,” Louis snorts.  “Kind of awkward, innit?”_

_Harry nods in agreement and dips down for one more kiss before lying down beside Louis who doesn’t wait a moment before turning onto his side to watch him breathe, watch him think._

_“Kind of want to anyway,” Harry whispers, a devilish grin crawling onto his lips._

_And sudden coldness runs through Louis’ veins, fear and pain and self-hatred, as he feels himself making a mistake he knows he has made before, at another moment in time.  It was their first real fight._

Louis wakes with a gasp, immediately throwing his hand out to find the warm body of the boy from his dream even in his drugged state.

Harry startles at his noise and his movement, his eyebrows pinching together in his delirium.  “Lou?  What’s wrong?  What happened?” he murmurs, moving his hand over Louis’ cheek, still warm from the pillow it was pressed against before he turned over to find him in the darkness.

Louis breathes quietly for a moment before answering, orienting himself to Harry’s room.  A different room than the one he feels he was in moments earlier, but still familiar.  It still smells like Harry and feels like home.  “Nothing,” he whispers.  “Just had a dream.”

“Nightmare?” Harry asks quietly, thumbing across his cheekbone.

“Not really,” Louis says, shaking his head.  “Was dreaming about that time we almost had sex for the first time.”

Harry’s mouth morphs into a secret smile.  “What’s got you all hot and bothered?”

Louis giggles unashamedly.  “Can’t get enough of you when I’m awake, so I guess I have to dream about you, too.”

Harry’s resounding smile fades after a minute or so of staring, but he never takes his eyes off of him.

Louis takes a deep breath.  “Do you remember the first time you knew?”  He doesn’t elaborate.  He knows Harry will understand what he is asking.

He almost expected his smile to return, but instead Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he says very seriously, “I’m not sure when I first realized I was in love with you.  I don’t think it happened all at once.  I think I just gradually figured it out.  But it was a long time ago, I know that.”

Louis nods.  “I remember the day I realized.  It hit me so hard.  Like a runaway train.”  Harry reaches for his hand and holds it on top of the duvet, silently waiting for his story.  “It was that weekend we were here.  At the beach.  When we went with our families.  We were playing hide-and-seek, and you found me in those rocks.  And you smiled at me, and for whatever reason, that same silly smile I’d seen a billion times before…it was different.”

Harry does smile at that.  Of course he remembers that day, that exact moment.  “I remember the first time I wanted to kiss you,” he whispers.

Louis’ own smile grows.  Because he remembers that, too.  “When?”

“Your sixteenth birthday.  I tricked you into coming over to my house and made you love Christmas.  When we went to sleep, you held me, and you somehow felt closer than you ever had before.  And I realized it still wasn’t enough.  I was so young, we both were, but I wanted so badly to kiss you that night.”

Louis’ breath hitches, and he knows Harry can hear it, but he doesn’t care.  “Are you serious?”

Harry looks confused, and he’s really cute when he’s confused, so naturally Louis’ breathless whisper turns into a breathless giggle.

“Erm…yeah?”

“That was the first time _I_ wanted to kiss _you_.  You stole my moment, Haz,” he says, squeezing his hand gently.

“You should have kissed me then.”

“I did.  Not long after.”

Harry nods, his curls pressed against his pillow, slipping over the soft material with his movement.  “You did.  Best day of my life until now.  That was perfect, but this definitely wins.”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes.  He can feel the crinkles beside his eyes turning permanent.

After another staring contest, Harry asks, “What happened that day?  Like why didn’t we?”

Louis stiffens for just a moment before remembering that he can relax.  It’s okay now.  They’re okay.  “Just got scared, I think.”

“I’m not scary, Lou.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not,” Louis argues.  “You are the scariest thing in the world.  You’re also the prettiest and most comforting and the person I love most in the world, but you’re scary, Haz.  Being with you is scary.  It was then and it still is now.  In a weird way.  In a happy way.  I don’t mind it.”

“You’re crazy,” Harry breathes, the smile on his face showing Louis he understands.  Or if he doesn’t, at least he understands that Louis feels that way and that it’s okay.

“I love you,” Louis whispers.  There are probably better, more relevant responses to Harry’s teasing insult, but Louis can’t think of any right now.  Not when Harry is looking at him like this.

“You scare me, too, y’know,” Harry says, moving closer.

Louis’ heart hammers against his ribs as Harry’s breath collides with his lips.  “That’s not possible,” he whispers, his own breath caught in his throat.

Harry smiles and holds his face as close to Louis’ without touching him.  “Please shut up and kiss me.”

This isn’t six years ago, and Louis isn’t scared.  He isn’t worried or nervous or afraid of all of the feelings swirling around in his brain and in his heart and in the tips of his fingers itching to touch the man crowding his personal space.

So Louis kisses him, heartbeats racing and lips growing numb under the other’s.  They should probably go back to sleep, get as many winks as possible to make the best of their last day, but neither of them seem to care about that right now.

An hour later, Louis finally listens to the voice in his head and pulls away, his lips still tingling and moist and rubbed raw.  He catches sight of the beard burn glowing on Harry’s neck as he fluffs his own pillow and slides it over toward Louis for him to share.

“What?” Harry questions shyly.

“You’re just so beautiful,” Louis says, smiling.  He runs his fingertips over Harry’s irritated skin.  “I love when I can see myself on you.”

“So you’re saying _you’re_ beautiful.”

“Of course I’m beautiful, Harry,” he winks, giving him one final kiss before closing his eyes.  He can feel Harry still watching him as they lie face-to-face, as close as possible without the ability to actually crawl inside of one another.

The thing is that Louis has said these words before.  It used to make his favorite curly boy laugh when he would act cocky, putting on a show.  He’d call himself fit and congratulate him for landing such a great catch, sticking his bum out in some ridiculous pose that would make that weird honking sound come out of Harry’s mouth.

He has said it before.  But tonight is the first time he really believes it.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient with me! Bipolar disorder can be a pain in the ass.
> 
> It'll be another few days before I post the next chapter because I'm going out of town this weekend, but I'm hoping to get back to quicker updates again soon.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoy! <3

Their last morning is spent between tangled sheets, hands and lips pressed to sleep-warm skin, whispers and quiet, secret gasps curling in the cool air above them.  Images of a life together flash through Louis’ mind and he knows Harry sees them, too, as he kisses him deeply, leaves kaleidoscopic bruises on his collarbones and on his tummy, tickling him with his barely-there scruff.  He moves even lower, painting Louis’ inner thighs with the pinks and purples and blues of blood rising to the surface of his sensitive skin, pulling it forth with his teeth and his tongue and his swollen lips.

Declarations of love fall from open mouths and locked eyes, dark in want and need, as Harry pushes inside of him, bringing them as close as possible.  It's never enough.  Moans are swallowed, whimpers caught and thrown back in heated ecstasy, as they try to stay quiet, keep their sounds inside their room.  Goosebumps prickling skin with pulled hair, shivers running up spines, loss of breath with sticky release.  That is how their last morning is spent.  Together, in every way.

“I’m going to miss this room,” Louis says as Harry smooths a wet flannel up his legs and over his belly.

Harry smiles and tosses the flannel to the ground.  He lies down beside Louis and pulls him nearer, Louis dropping his head on his broad chest and wrapping an arm around his torso.  He kisses his smooth skin still warm to the touch.

“Can’t wait to live with you” Harry whispers above him, his chin resting atop Louis’ head.

“I’m going to have to get some pillows this exact color.”

“I was wondering when you would admit to that,” Harry chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you love my eyes, baby, but I don’t know if redecorating your entire house around their coloring is practical.”

Louis slaps his chest gently and giggles unabashedly.  “Hush.  I can do what I please.”  Harry smiles and pulls him up for another round of sweet kisses.  “You silly man,” Louis breathes when Harry lets him take in a shaky breath.

“Should’ve carried you to my room that night, so we could’ve spent the week surrounded by _my_ favorite color.”

“Too late,” Louis giggles.

“We’ll get blue pillows, too.”

“You can get whatever pillows you want as long as you always share them with me.”

Harry’s smile grows even brighter somehow, and he says, “You’ve got a deal.”

{~~~}

Their last afternoon is filled with laughter and joy and love.  Friendship in its happiest moments.  They swim and eat, and when one or both of the couples dares to take up Niall’s precious time with his mates with a bit of romance, he screams and they laugh and he screams some more.

After showering, they pack up the last of their belongings and sweep over the house one last time before Harry is the last to walk out, locking the door and tossing the key to Ed.  A thousand hugs later, kisses pressed to cheeks and teary eyes with no real purpose as they’ll all be together again in mere hours, they climb into two vehicles in the groups in which they had arrived a week earlier.  They pull away from their haven, wheels spinning as they leave the sand and meet the asphalt of the road.

Louis’ eyes are on the road, his hands on the wheel.  Harry’s everything is on Louis.  His eyes, his hands, his attention, his love.  Louis glances to his left, a small but uncontainable smile on his face.

“You’re distracting me,” he says.

“Sorry.”

Louis laughs, “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m going to crash your car if you keep looking at me like that.”

Harry smiles even brighter and turns to look through the windshield.  “I don’t know how to look at you in any other way.”

By the time the sun has disappeared and the moon is high in the sky, Harry humming sweet metaphors all the while, his eyes closed and his lips just barely moving, Louis’ manic excitement has faded to gentle peace.  Comfort and security and a realization that the moment he enters their hometown, the place he met and fell in love with the sleepy boy sitting beside him with a hand on Louis’ thigh and a dopey grin on his face, everything will be different.  It’s theirs again.

He presses down on the brakes as smoothly as he can and parks the car when he gets to their first destination, his hand finding Harry’s in his lap.  He rubs his thumb gently over his knuckles, turns his hand over to ghost his own fingertips over the calluses scarred over the pads of his fingers.  His head rests against the seat as he watches him doze, Harry’s eyelashes flickering in the light of the streetlamp outside of his mum’s house.

“Baby,” Louis whispers.  Harry grunts out something unintelligible, and Louis can’t help but smile.  “Haz,” he says a touch louder, “we’re here, love.”

Harry’s eyes open slowly and he looks toward Louis, nothing but love in those beautiful eyes, before gazing out the window, orienting himself to his surroundings.  “Let’s go get our girl,” he says.

Anne opens the door before they even reach forward to knock against the dark wood, pulling them into a joint hug.  No one says a word.  Louis thinks it would be almost sacrilegious.  She runs her warm hands over both of their backs, kissing their cheeks and holding them tightly against her body and one another.

Gracie interrupts them, bounding out of the house, a frantic Gemma running behind her, screaming her name.

“Gracie!” Harry squeals, tearing himself from their embrace just in time to catch Gracie in a hug of their own as she rises on her hind legs, standing even with Harry, and crashes into him.  He laughs as he stumbles backward with her weight, and Louis throws an arm out to wrap around Harry’s back and steady them both so they don’t fall down the steps.

“Gracie, you don’t know your strength!” Louis giggles.  Upon hearing his voice, the dog whips her head around and pierces him with a look of excitement that has Louis preparing for an attack.  Her paws fall from Harry’s shoulder and immediately find Louis’.  She stands taller than him, slobbering on his face a bit when he looks up to her.  “Hi, my girl,” he laughs, unable to even pet her as he simply tries not to fall.

Harry steps behind him and holds him still, reaching up to run a hand over Gracie’s smooth head while he presses a kiss to the side of Louis’ neck not currently being drooled all over.

“Think she missed Louis more than she missed you, little brother,” Gemma says when Gracie finally relents, falling to the ground to pace excitedly around the group.

“Can’t really blame her,” Harry says, winking at Louis.

Louis turns to Gemma nervously and smiles.  “Nice to see you again,” he says hesitantly, not sure where they stand.

“I’m not angry with you anymore,” she says, giggling.  “Come here.”  Louis steps forward and is pulled into a hug.  Gemma’s hugs have always been just as warm as Anne’s, like they can both tell exactly what the person on the receiving end needs.

He relaxes as her arms press into his back and says, “Missed you, Gems.”

“I missed you, too.  We all did.  Sorry to have been an arse, but you kind of deserved it.”

“I know,” Louis whispers, a quiet laugh blowing a few strands of her bone-straight hair away from her ear.  He plants a soft kiss to her cheek and pulls away, backing up into Harry, sinking into his touch from behind.  Harry’s arms come up to hold him closer and Anne smiles, her face illuminated by the warm glow of the porch light.

“I would ask if you boys want a cuppa, but you look absolutely knackered.”

“Erm…actually,” Harry starts, “we wanted to talk to you about something before we left.”

Louis nods, “Tea, please.  Not sure if this one will make it home without.”

Anne guides them into the house, Gracie following Louis every step of the way.  Gemma kisses them all goodnight, expressing regret over having to head to bed but explaining that she has an important meeting in the morning.  Anne busies herself in the kitchen as Louis rests against his boy already sat on the couch.

She joins them shortly, handing them their tea.  “So what did you want to talk about, loves?”

Harry clears his throat and dives right in.  “I’m moving in with Louis.  Gracie and me.  He lives alone, and Liam and Zayn want to move in together.  So it’s perfect really.”

Anne quirks her eyebrows and stays silent for longer than Louis had expected her to.  Finally, she says, “Are you asking for my permission?”

Harry laughs awkwardly, “No, I just wanted you to know.  I know we’re moving fast, and I wanted to keep you in the loop.”

“You’re moving fast?” she asks with a smile.

“Well…yeah?  I mean, we just became…us again like five days ago or summat.”

“Sweetheart,” Anne says with a smirk, “how long have you two been head-over-heels in love? Twelve years?  Sure, your break was longer than most, but that doesn’t matter.  When you know, you just know.  I don’t think it’s fast at all.  I think both of you have been wanting this for a very long time.  I’m so happy for you, baby.”

She reaches out and grabs Harry’s hands, his larger ones making hers look so dainty in comparison.  She looks toward Louis and lets go of Harry’s hands with one of her own to brush his scruffy cheek with the lightest, most comforting touch.  “Welcome home, Louis.”

“Thank you,” Louis says, feeling the blush hit his cheeks.

“You have my blessing to make an honest man out of my boy.”

“ _Mum_ ,” Harry whines.  “You’re so embarrassing.”

“Oh, hush.  Let your mother be happy.”

They chat for a while longer, sipping their tea until it cools and gulping down the rest.  Brunch is scheduled for next week, and they both get trapped in several more hugs before Harry grabs Gracie’s leash, opting not to fasten it to her collar as he coos at her.  “Very well behaved, aren’t you, love?  Such a good girl.”  The short drive to Harry’s apartment, peppered by puppy kisses and soft squeezes of Harry’s hand on Louis’ thigh seems more important than it probably is.  But Louis cannot help but realize that it will be like this all the time now.  They’ll go places together, their dog along for the ride.  Eventually, Gracie will have to give up part of the backseat to allow space for a baby who will grow into a toddler and a very spoiled child.  They’ll be a family.  This is his first taste of it.  He can’t wait for more.

“I’ll have to ask Liam to be the boss tomorrow,” Harry says suddenly, disrupting their silence.

“Why?” Louis asks with a smirk.

“You know why."  Harry grins and digs his fingertips into Louis’ leg.

“Just want to hear you say it again.”

“So I can move in with you.  So we can be together.  Be a proper family.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Louis says dramatically.

Harry bursts into hysterical laughter, throwing his head back against his seat.  Gracie barks excitedly at his outburst.  “You’re disgusting.”

“You love me.”

“More than you can even imagine, sunshine.”  His laughter quiets and he turns to gaze at Louis as he parks the car in front of Harry’s apartment and tosses his keys into his lap.

Louis gives him a wink as they stare at one another like lovesick idiots.  “Ready?” he asks.

Harry nods, his eyes twinkling brighter than the stars above that inspired that lullaby he made up the other night, the one Louis has had in his head ever since.  "Yeah, Lou," he whispers, "I'm ready.”


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I'm somewhat caught up with my school assignments and my mental health seems to be climbing back up, slowly but surely, so hopefully I'll be back to posting quicker updates again soon. :) Hope you enjoy!

Harry unlocks the door to enter the building, and they walk into his and Liam’s apartment unimpeded, the door already open from the other boys’ recent arrival.  They must not have hung around after dropping Ed home.  They toe off their shoes as Gracie trots in behind them, immediately heading for Harry’s room with no concern for the people around her, and wander into the living room where Liam is laying a blanket on the sofa for Niall.

A twinge of sadness pings in Louis’ heart as he realizes he doesn’t know when he’ll next see his best mate.  He’s gotten quite used to having him around, cracking jokes and humming folksy tunes and throwing crisps at his head when he kisses Harry too passionately.

As if he heard Louis’ thoughts, Niall emerges from the loo and rounds the corner before falling onto his back on the sofa, clad in nothing but loose boxers, his skin reddened by a week in the sun on full display.  “Why are you lookin’ at me like that, Tommo?”

“Just going to miss you, Nialler.”

Niall smirks and throws a pillow at him.  “I’ll be back soon.  Don’t cry.”

Louis’ attention is redirected when Liam walks toward the loo to join Zayn who walked in moments earlier.  “Hey, Li?” he calls before he can get too far.

Liam leans back and meets his eyes, “Yeah, bud?”

He hesitates, isn’t really sure why, but everything is okay again when Harry’s arm slips around his waist, his warm palm coming to rest over his tummy.  He can feel himself smiling, relaxing against Harry’s body more and more every second.

He forgets their conversation until Harry’s voice sounds right beside his ear, the vibrations of it tickling his skin.  “We need to talk to you and Zayn tonight.”

Zayn pops his head around the doorframe, prompting a quiet giggle from Louis.  He likes Zayn.  He really wants to spend more time with him.  He’s distracted once again, this time by the thought of cliché double dates with their friends who _think_ they’re as deeply in love as Louis and Harry.  Harry and Liam are practically brothers, and Louis thinks Zayn might recognize the potential between them, as well.  It would be nice.

He is pulled back to the present when Zayn snickers, “Are we in trouble?”

Harry laughs, “No, it’s not bad.  Something you’ve probably been wanting to discuss with me anyway.  I might just be accelerating the process a bit.”

“Just a bit,” Louis whispers, breathing out a laugh that is cut short by a pinch to his bum where Harry’s hand has fallen.

“Cool,” Liam says, a knowing smile on his face.  “We’ll talk in my room later so Niall can sleep, yeah?”

Louis feels Harry nod as Niall cuts in.  “I have a long drive tomorrow, you dicks.  Hash out the details of your romances elsewhere, please.”

Louis just allows him a good look at one particular finger and tugs Harry into his room to snog until the shower is free, leaving Niall chuckling behind them as he situates himself on his makeshift bed.

{~~~}

“You want to leave me?” Liam whines dramatically, a tattooed hand grasping at his bare chest in faux agony.

Harry reacts as if he doesn’t know it’s a joke.  “I’m sorry,” he whines back.

Liam goads him on, “I can’t believe, after all this time, you just don’t love me anymore.”

Louis is trying valiantly to hold in his laughter, a feat made even more difficult by Zayn’s obvious effort across from him.

“Liam, I love you so much,” Harry says.  Louis clears his throat, raising his eyebrows as Harry glances at him.  His lips turn up in a smile, and he turns back to Liam.  “I just love Louis more.”

Liam’s façade breaks, and his attention is suddenly on Zayn.  “I get it,” he says, smiling at his boy.  Zayn always looks at him as if he’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.  Louis wonders if he and Harry are that embarrassing.  Probably.  They’re probably worse.

Zayn manages to rip his eyes away from Liam and says, “We were nervous to talk to you about it, actually.  Didn’t want you to feel like we were kicking you out of your own home.”

Harry smiles, running his hand along Louis’ leg pressed against his own.  “Glad we figured our shit out before that happened.  Don’t worry, I would have moved out soon enough.  I don’t love the fact that I know what you sound like when you come.”

Louis isn’t sure who he’s even talking to, but he bursts into uncontrollable giggles as Zayn’s cheeks catch fire and Liam’s eyes bug out of his skull.  Louis falls back onto the bed, cackling loudly, waiting for Niall to storm into the room and throw a string of curses at him.

Zayn seems to find some hidden stash of confidence and lifts himself up and into Liam’s lap.  “It’s not my fault.  He really knows what he’s doing.”

Liam looks like he is about to faint, humiliation painting his face a bright maroon.

Louis is freshly showered, and he can smell the soap on Harry’s skin even from where he is lying behind him, his arms crossed under his head.  He hasn’t touched him nearly enough today, and he suddenly feels a very strong urge to fix that problem.  And he would prefer to do so in the privacy of Harry’s bedroom and not in front of Zayn who looks like he might start drooling on his boyfriend at any moment.

Harry shivers next to him, and when Louis catches his eyes wandering over the smooth expanse of his bare torso, he knows he must be thinking the same thing.  Louis sits upright, knocking their shoulders together as a sort of confirmation that he would very much like to get his mouth on his Harry’s as soon as possible.

Harry jumps up, dragging Louis with him until they’re both standing awkwardly beside Liam’s bed, the horny couple barely even noticing their imminent departure.

“So anyway,” he says to Liam, “I just wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind running the shop tomorrow?  I know the first day either of us is back after so long will be rough, but we can alternate for the next week.  Just take care of what you can tomorrow, and I’ll go in the next day and finish up.  Then we can switch for a while until we’re all settled in our new places and things can go back to normal.”

“Harry,” Liam chuckles, “I don’t mind at all.  Don’t be dense.”

“I have to go home tomorrow anyway to take care of some business with a client,” Zayn chirps.  “So that’s actually perfect.  Because tomorrow I’ll be busy, but the next day I can move my stuff in here.  So you and Lou can do your thing tomorrow and then Li and I will be next.”

That seems like enough information, and Louis is practically vibrating by now, so he takes Harry’s hand in his and pulls him toward the door.  “All right, sounds brilliant.  Goodnight!” he says frantically.

Harry is still talking for some unholy reason.  “Just text me throughout the day, yeah?  Let me know how it’s going.  Don’t hesitate if you need me.”

“Harry, you’re acting like I haven’t been right by your side since before you even owned the place.  Relax.  I’ll keep you updated.  Please go have sex with your boyfriend before all of the blood vessels in his forehead pop and he bleeds out all over my bedroom.”

Harry giggles and finally shuts his mouth, quickly following Louis out of the room.  Louis slams Harry’s bedroom door behind them as soon as Harry is through the threshold and he has coaxed Gracie out of the room, jumping into his arms without a single doubt that Harry won’t catch him.

“Couldn’t get out of there fast enough,” he pants, Harry shivering below him as Louis’ hot breath caresses the shell of his ear.

“What has gotten into you?” Harry giggles breathlessly.

“Just need to get my hands on you.  All. The. Fucking. Time,” he annunciates, pressing kisses to his cheeks and his neck and his perfect lips with every word.

Harry walks them to the bed, lowering Louis gently until his back hits the soft surface.  He crawls over him, kissing him again like he would die if he stopped.

His tongue glides over Louis’, tangling them together and quite literally taking Louis’ breath away.  He feels dizzy, a little shaky, and reaches for any part of Harry he can hold on to, letting his curls wrap around his fingers.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Harry whispers.

Louis smiles, their kiss paused as their teeth clack together awkwardly when Harry flashes a matching grin.  “About a million times.”

“Might be able to get to a billion by the end of the night.  I’ve got a few things I want to do to you.”  He licks over Louis’ neck suddenly, causing him to jerk in surprise below him.  “All of them involve telling you that I am insanely…” his lips start on a bruise that Louis knows will be as dark as a ripe berry by the time he is done with him, “…unbelievably…head-over-heels…all-the-clichés-in-the-world…” he moves on to the other side of his neck, dipping lower to nip at his collarbone, “…frighteningly…feels-like-magic—”

“Does this have an endpoint?” Louis teases, his voice light and weak under Harry’s ministrations.

“In love with you,” Harry finishes, rising up to kiss him again properly, his red, swollen lips against Louis’ chapped from a week in the sun and irritated from Harry’s constant attention.

When Louis becomes legitimately concerned about the lack of oxygen being supplied to his brain, he pulls Harry away just far enough to meet his eyes, his fingers still tangled in his lovely, wonderful curls.  Harry doesn’t say a word, just waits the way he always does.  The way he always has.

“Are we boyfriends?” Louis asks.  “Is that what I should call you?”

“What do you want to call me?”

Louis hums, as if giving the idea any real contemplation.  “Mine.”

Harry gazes at him, lashes lowered over hooded eyelids, his bright green eyes still shining through.  He looks fucking delectable.  “I am yours,” he whispers.

“Want to call you my boyfriend.  Soon I can call you my fiancé.  Before we know it, you’ll be my husband.”

“I’m hard already, Lou.  The sexy talk isn’t necessary.”

Louis laughs, “You’re filthy.”

“I’m so fucking crazy about you,” Harry nearly growls, leaning down to connect their lips once again.  “The number of times I’d lie awake, thinking of you, imagining you were with me, your hands on my body and your lips on mine…I should probably be embarrassed.”

Louis tries to fix his face into an expression that says he understands.  He really does.

Harry keeps talking, encouraging tears to well in Louis’ eyes at his look of utter desperation and openness.  “Would touch myself thinking of you.  Not even in a dirty way.  Just…I’d…”

A tear falls from Harry’s eye as he swallows his words.  Louis thumbs over his cheek and whispers, “It’s all right, baby.  I’m here.”

“I’d think of your eyes.  And your freckles.  And I’d think of the way you used to hold me, how it would feel like the world would just stop spinning for however long you stayed pressed against me, playing with my hair.  I’d imagine a fairytale happy ending where I got to keep you forever.  It wasn’t like…some sexual fantasy, I didn’t wank to the thought of your arse or anything.  It was never like that.  I’d get so turned on and desperate for you, and it was…that was the only way I knew how to stop feeling like that for even just a few minutes. To get some relief.”

Harry closes his mouth but continues to sniffle over Louis.  “Hazzah,” he whispers, wiping away every tear as it falls, “even if it was sexual, that’s okay.  I’m not offended.  I thought of you, too, baby.  I’d be lying if I said I never got off on the memory of your kisses,” he says running the tip of his pointer finger of his plush lips, “to the thought of you panting below me, your hot breath on my neck, your hands on me.  But I understand.  Most of the time, it was just that I missed you.”

“I missed you so much for so long, Louis,” he whimpers.

“I missed you, too.  You know that, right?”

Harry lowers his body to rest on top of Louis’ and buries his face into his neck.  He nods silently as his wet nose moistens Louis’ skin.

“We have to stop doing this, love,” Louis says as he runs his fingers over Harry’s back, digging in gently at his shoulders before dropping them back down to his hips to hold him steady.  “We love each other.  We’re together, and everything is going to be okay.”

Harry snorts out a laugh and sits up on his knees, wiping his face with his hands and exhaling a long, strained breath.  “You’re right.  Let’s have sex.”

Louis giggles and bucks him off of his legs, sending him onto his back on the bed before settling on top of him.  “You’re so weird,” he says, refocusing Harry’s attention back onto his lips.

“You love me, though.  Even though I cry during sex.”

“We have really beautiful sex, so I’d be more worried if you didn’t cry, to be honest.”

Harry laughs, and Louis feels incredibly proud for that accomplishment as he keeps his eyes closed, the feeling of Harry’s lips on his and the sound of his bright, joyful laughter permeating all of his senses.

“Now who’s being weird?” Harry teases.

“Still you, babe.”

“Are you going to fuck me anyway?”

“Of course,” Louis says, opening his eyes just to wink at him.

“Well, get on with it then,” Harry says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Louis does get on with it.  Twice before they succumb to their exhaustion, tangled up in the bedsheets and each other.


	47. Chapter 47

The sun shines into Harry’s bedroom as it rises in the morning sky.  It’s not quite as bright as it was in their room at the sea, and Louis is thankful as he blinks slowly, letting his eyes adjust.  When his vision clears, he sees green.  A rich, forest green with dapples of golden light.

“Hi,” Harry whispers with a smile, little crinkles popping up beside his eyes.

“Hi,” Louis breathes, matching his smile perfectly.

“We’re going to live together tonight.”

“If you want out, this is your last chance.  Once I spend all day moving boxes full of your shit, you’re going to be stuck with me.”

Harry’s smile softens and broadens simultaneously.  “Forever?”

Louis nods.  “Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever—”

His rambling is cut off by his own high-pitched giggles when Harry leans over and connects their lips frantically.  It’s a terrible kiss, all teeth and laughter and poor aim.  It’s perfect.

Gracie yips from her pallet on the floor where she curled up last night when Harry let her in after their activities that Louis had previously declared “definitely not appropriate for our child to see, Harold.”

“Morning, Gracie,” Harry says, pulling away to coo at her and pat the duvet, encouraging her to jump up on the bed for cuddles.

She immediately goes for Louis’ face, diving in between their bodies and slobbering all over him.  His hands fly up to his face in an effort to minimize the saliva being hurled at him.  “Gracie, no!” Louis giggles.  “Yuck!”

Harry laughs and pulls her away, firmly telling her to lie down at the foot of the bed.  She listens, and when Louis asks for more human kisses, Harry listens, too.

“Your breath tastes like arse, by the way.  ‘S worse than the dog’s,” Louis teases when he can finally get in a solid intake of air.

“Hmm, I do so wonder why,” Harry quips, tapping his index finger against his chin as if in contemplation.

“Shut up,” Louis says, still laughing.

Harry obeys, kissing him some more.  He pulls away much too soon, only giving Louis one final peck when he pouts at the sudden distance.

“I wish we could stay here all day, but I’d really like to get the sucky part of this over with, yeah?”

“Excuse you!” Louis squeals.  “There is no sucky part, you dick.”

“Aw, love,” Harry coos, ruffling Louis’ hair before slithering away, taking his warmth with him.  “We both know you’re going to be complaining and crawling all over me trying to distract me two hours in.”  He stands from the bed and throws back a wink.

“Hazzaahhh,” Louis whines, grabbing at his arm, “come back to bed.”

“We have to stay focused and power through, Lou, come on!” he exclaims, whipping the duvet from Louis’ body, the cold air shocking to his sleep-warm skin.

“Oi!  What the fuck, Harry?!”

“Get up!  We’re going to have an adventure today!”

“You know what?  I change my mind.  I don’t want to live with you.  You’re a maniac.”

“Oh, come off it.  Either way, you need to shower, so if you want to be in there at the same time as yours truly, which I’m guessing you do based on the way your dick was poking at me just now, you’ll get your arse out of bed right now.”

He walks out of the room, swinging his hips in a cocky strut.  All of Louis’ resolve crumples immediately, and he jumps out of bed, the sheets tangling around his ankle and nearly tripping him before he makes it to the door.

Gracie hasn’t moved a muscle, being smarter than both of them and deciding sleep is her number one priority.

They take too long to shower, distractions aplenty in the shape of Harry’s lips and his curls and his long legs.  Once they finally manage to get clean, they join their friends in the living room to bid Niall and Zayn farewell for now.  Liam can’t seem to let Zayn go.  Louis understands and joy fills his heart at another realization that he won’t have to watch Harry leave anymore without certainty that he’ll return as soon as he can make it back to him.  To their home.

Niall eventually drags Zayn out of Liam’s arms and down the stairs, waving back at everyone and yelling that he’ll be back as soon as he can convince his boss he’s still a star employee and can definitely work from home more often.

Liam heads out not long after, once he escapes another speech from Harry about how thankful he is for Liam giving them the day.  The door closes behind him, and Louis throws his arms around Harry’s neck, hoisting himself up to wrap his legs around his waist.  He holds on tightly as Harry spins around in circles, kissing him sweetly all the while.

“Gotta go get boxes,” Louis says, patting his shoulder for him to let him down.

“You want to go get them and I’ll stay here and start gathering stuff?”

Louis nods because despite giving him shit about it earlier, he really would like to get this over with so they can just be together in _their_ apartment.  He heart skips a beat at the thought.

“I’ll be back soon, lover,” he sings, pressing one last kiss to Harry’s lips.

Harry breathes out a laugh and turns to watch him leave.  “Loving the view, darling,” he calls out.

“Stop staring at me bum and get to work,” Louis says, turning back to wink before closing the door in Harry’s face.

{~~~}

“Why does it matter, Harold?!”

“Because it doesn’t go there, _Lewis_!”

“It’s all going to the same fookin’ place, innit?  Who cares?!”

Harry throws down the cookbook he’s somehow managed to not tear in half in his rage, and Louis’ frustration only increases at the loud sound it makes as it hits the floor.  “I care!” Harry screams.  Then he spins away from Louis and walks down the hallway without another word.

Louis stands in the living room, cardboard boxes all around him, fuming.  This is not going how he expected it to.  It’s not going well at all, actually.  By the time he returned, Harry was already stressed out, pacing frantically and slamming drawers and yelling a bit every time Louis asked him a question.  Moving is stressful, he knows this.  Louis has packed up his whole life and moved several times.  Harry hasn’t.  So he understands.  He knows that even though Harry wants this more than anything, he’s scared, too.  But still, he doesn’t really know how to handle it.  He’s only seen Harry like this once before.  On that night he doesn’t let himself think about anymore.

Harry has disappeared into his bedroom where he must be throwing shit around in his closet, judging by the muffled crashes coming from that direction.

Louis walks slowly down the hallway until he’s met the doorframe.  He slumps against it, the small piece of metal on the frame catching on his jeans.  He watches as Harry throws a shoe against the opposite wall and winces when it makes contact, almost expecting to see a hole when the shoe drops.

“Hazzah,” he says quietly.  Harry does not respond, still seems to be in a panic over finding whatever it is he is looking for.  “Baby, please look at me,” he pleads, trying his damned hardest to keep his voice calm.

Harry sighs and places his palms on his legs bent under him, rubbing over his thighs.  He doesn’t turn around.  “What?”

“Look at me.”

He finally obeys.  “What, Louis?  _What_?  What do you want?”

Louis tries not to take it personally.  He doesn’t like when Harry says his name like that.  He much prefers when he says it quietly, under the sheets and inside of kisses, whispered like a prayer.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says.  Harry’s face drops.  “We can put that stupid cookbook anywhere you want, baby.  I’m sorry.  I wasn’t thinking about how much I’m asking you to sacrifice.  You’re leaving your home.  I know you’re scared.  I know you’re stressed, and that is totally understandable.  I’m so sorry I yelled at you.”

Harry stands up awkwardly, rubbing his hand down his arm, bringing it across his body.  “It’s okay.  I’m sorry, too.”

Louis takes a few steps forward, sliding his arms around Harry’s waist and pulling him against his chest.  He rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder and breathes, smelling his coconut curls as he waits for the warm press of his arms around him.  He doesn’t have to wait for long.

“I don’t know what happened,” Harry sniffles.  “I promise I still want this.  I just got freaked out.”

“That’s okay, love.”

“I’m so sorry, Lou.”

“Don’t be sorry.  Just don’t say my name like that again.  Scared me a teensy bit, if I’m honest.”

And then Harry does what only Harry would do at a time like this.  He leans forward ever so slightly, brushing his lips against Louis’ ear, and growls.  He actually fucking growls.

Louis can’t help the loud giggles suddenly erupting from his throat.  “Not like that, you weirdo!”

“Hey!” Harry exclaims as Louis pushes on his chest, laughter of his own flowing from his pretty mouth.  Much better.

Louis doesn’t even answer him, just attacks him with kisses, pressing their lips together in a frenzy.  His feet eventually leave the floor and that sweet dizziness he’s only ever felt with Harry swirls around in his brain as Harry holds him close and takes what is his.

“Never want to fight with you again,” he pants as one of Harry’s hands slips down to cup his arse.

“What a poor excuse for a first row as a proper couple,” Harry says, his voice breathy and high-pitched with arousal.  “Spent more time apologizing than we did arguing.”

“Know you were excited to fight with me,” Louis quips, a sly smile forming on his lips as they move against his boy’s.  “Was it everything you dreamed of, baby?”

And well.  Harry’s bed is staying exactly like it is because Louis’ is perfectly fine and already in the correct flat.  So he knows exactly what he’s doing.  They’ll just be a bit behind schedule.

Harry walks over to the bed, pressing Louis into the duvet as he lies above him.  “Louis Tomlinson.  You are more than I could have ever dreamed of.  And then some.”

Louis reaches up, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair and bringing his face down for another kiss.  He slips his tongue into his open mouth, sliding it filthily against Harry’s, trying to communicate how else he wants to use his tongue right now.  Harry groans, and Louis relents when he knows Harry understands.  “Glad to hear it,” he says with a wink.  “Now get your kit off.”

They lose two hours.  It’s worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna make my day? Chat with me in the comments or on [Tumblr](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com/ask)! Please feel free to reblog my [post](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com/post/161393411019/larryandgaystuff-petrichor-by-larryandgaystuff) for this fic if you love reading it as much as I love writing it!


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel kinda shitty for making y'all wait so long for this short chapter in which nothing really happens, but I'm already writing the next one and it's long and fluffy and smutty, so don't hate me yet! Okay, enjoy!

Not much has changed since Louis and Harry’s first night together in their flat two months ago.  Summer passed, days warm with sunshine and love and nights hot under sheets Louis has never had to wash so often until now.  Weekends spent swimming and dozing and picnicking at their secret pond and evenings turning into early mornings while Harry serenaded him from the stage at _Ed’s_.  Free days lounging on worn sofas chatting with their mums and sisters and cheesy double-date nights with Liam and Zayn.  Nights in featuring homemade pizza that Louis is absolutely _not_ responsible for burning and running to the corner store after the disaster for backup ice cream.

There were grayer times, too, of course.  Days when Harry was at work for nearly sixteen hours and finally came home exhausted and in a sour mood.  Nights when Louis couldn’t sleep and Harry would wake to empty sheets only to find him moments later being pelted with burning hot water across the hall from their bedroom.  Tiny arguments sweetened by apologies whispered into sweaty necks and shouted through laughter when the tickling started.  Real life happened when they left the beach, and knowing that it would did nothing to soothe the sting when it came, but strong arms and candy-sweet lips and soft words made it all worth it.  Because just like Harry always says, it just means it’s real.

Louis opens his eyes slowly to an achingly familiar scene of his least favorite kind of morning, one in which Harry has to leave before the sun rises in the sky to get to the café.  He vaguely recalls his name being whispered hours earlier, kisses to his forehead and his cheeks and his lips before Harry’s warmth was gone.  It’s their routine on mornings like this.  Harry tries his very best not to wake him, fails because he’s a clumsy giant, and kisses him silly while Louis pretends to be asleep and also fails because he can’t help but smile when he feels his boy’s lips on his.  He buries his face in his pillow to hide his smile as his heart picks up at the memory.

As if sensing his loneliness, Gracie drags her huge body up the bed from where she was sleeping atop his feet, pulling the duvet up with her, and licks a broad, wet stripe up Louis’ nose and between his eyes.  Louis groans and wipes his hand across his face and greets his favorite girl, smoothing his hand over her shiny coat.

“Good morning, baby.  Give me a few minutes and we’ll go for a walk before I head to school, yeah?  Your mean old daddy didn’t let you outside this morning, did he?”

Gracie yelps, bouncing around on the bed in excitement, and Louis smiles, petting her head once more before slipping out of bed to start his day.  He stretches his arms over his head, his spine cracking loudly, and yawns as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

It’s going to be a long one.

{~~~}

Ten hours, two meetings, three crayon-induced meltdowns, and a glitter bomb catastrophe later, Louis shoves his last folder into his bag and hauls it over his shoulder on his way out of his classroom.  He loves his job, there’s no doubt about that, even on days like this, when doubt would be completely justified.  But his ears are ringing and his eyes are tired and his head is thumping along to the beat of a frankly long overdue headache, and all he wants is to get to his boy and hide underneath him until they have to get out of bed tomorrow to do it all over again.

He takes his phone from his pocket and presses it to his ear as he waits for the sound of his favorite voice on the other end, a smile creeping onto his lips despite his exhaustion.

“’Ello?” Harry says, like a question.  Which is strange.  Because he never answers that way when Louis calls.  It’s always more of a greeting, like he already knows who it is.

“Hi, baby,” Louis responds, his heart dropping with the news he knows must be coming.  “Still at work, huh?”

“Ugh, yes.  It has been…” Harry exhales loudly, “…a long fucking day.”

“Should I swing by?”

“No, go home.  I’m almost done here, I promise.”

“You sure?  I can help.”

“Baby, no, just go home.  I’ll see you soon, yeah?  I’ll be out of here in like thirty minutes, tops.”

“All right, but if you’re not home in an hour, I’m going to have to put a kidnapping plan in place.  Hope you understand.”

Harry doesn’t laugh.  He doesn’t say anything.

“Haz?”

“Sorry, Lou, I gotta go, but I’ll be home,” he rushes before hanging up.

“Love you,” Louis says anyway.  Even though Harry can’t hear him anymore.

And suddenly his terrible day doesn’t seem so terrible.  It’s sunshine and roses compared to the thought of Harry worn down, those wrinkles in his forehead deeper than ever like they always are on hard days.  Nothing could be worse than knowing he won’t be there when Louis walks through the door, ready to hoist him up in his big arms and kiss him until they’re both dizzy and hungry for more but hungrier for whatever Harry has made for dinner.

His stomach growls at the reminder that he hasn’t eaten since early morning, and the queasiness he’s felt since Harry answered the phone worsens with the hunger pains.  He knows what he wants to do.  He wants to make it home and take a shower.  The bad kind.  The kind that makes Harry sad.  But they’ve been working through that, and he can’t do that to him tonight.

So instead he concocts a plan.  A very romantic plan.

As his brain is struggling to stay focused and come up with a few ideas that might make Harry cry like the sap he is, Louis realizes somewhat abruptly that he’s reached the flat, having walked pretty much the whole way on autopilot, barely noticing anything around him.

He lets himself in, immediately reaching for the leash hanging by the door, knowing Gracie will be bounding toward him any second now.  She must be sleeping if she isn’t already knocking him down.  He whistles and strengthens his stance, not at all prepared for her weight with the weight of the day already too much to hold but aware that she won’t care about that in her excitement.

She barrels through the kitchen and into his arms, licking up the side of his face, her tail wagging so hard behind her that she might take flight.  She won’t calm down until she’s had her exercise, and besides, he has time.  Harry won’t be home in an hour.  He never is on days like this.  So he’s got time to make everything perfect for his perfect, lovely, unbelievable boy.

Louis is going to kick romance’s arse.  Harry won’t know what hit him.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I actually broke this chapter up into two pieces because I got carried away and I'm still writing it, but I wanted to give you something today. Hope that's okay with everyone! Smut coming soon. ;)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and for leaving me comments and kudos. I could never explain how much it means to me, your kind words are always very encouraging. Thank you <3

They don’t have the proper ingredients for Louis’ signature dish, but they have enough for him to create a minimalistic version.  He thaws a few pieces of chicken, changing out the water in the sink each time it cools to quicken the process and gets busy boiling and mashing potatoes.  He adds the necessary spices and a ridiculous amount of butter to the spuds, and turning to peek into the refrigerator again, sends up a prayer of thanks that cheese is one of those things Harry is always sure to pick up on grocery day.  It’s not mozzarella and he doesn’t have parma ham either, so the chicken will be pretty plain, but he takes the brie from the shelf and some grapes so deeply purple they almost look bruised, sure to leave them on the stem, and makes a small platter to bring to their room.

He showers as their dinner cooks, not letting the water get too hot, not letting himself go down that path tonight.  This is too important, and it’s not worth it, no matter how much he might be craving it.

When he has scrubbed off the grime of the day, he ventures into the bedroom and digs out those tight, black briefs that aren’t the most comfortable but always make Harry drool and Harry’s Hot-n-Hard t-shirt that hangs off his shoulder in the perfect way.

He fixes his fringe and brushes his teeth quickly before setting to work, transforming the loo into the spa Harry deserves.  It’s been nearly two hours, so he should be home any minute now.  If he runs the bath at a temperature to burn, it should be the perfect warmth by the time they reach this point in his plan.  He pours in a generous heaping of Harry’s favorite scented bath salts, the strong, soothing aromas of peppermint and eucalyptus and a touch of vanilla filling the room as steam dances in the air.  Their fluffiest towels are set on the counter and the lights are lowered using the dimmer Louis is very, very thankful he had the foresight to install before he ever even needed it.

After checking himself out in the mirror one more time just to be sure he looks better than he feels, he hurries back to the kitchen and pulls the chicken and potatoes from the oven, plating it all as prettily as he can manage with his hands shaking with a combination of exhaustion and excitement.  He sets their meal on the dining table and allows himself a moment of relaxation, waiting for Harry’s imminent arrival as he rests his aching bones, letting Gracie squeeze herself in between him and the back of the sofa.  He resorts to focusing on scratching ever so lightly behind her ear and on the way she kicks him gently when he finds an especially pleasing spot, trying his absolute hardest not to fall asleep.

Finally, Gracie’s ears perk up as her head whips around in the direction of the door, and seconds later, Louis hears the distinct sound of a key in a lock.  They both jump up from the sofa, and Louis knows from the look on her face that he’ll have to let her get her hugs first or there will be a fight.  So he remains a step behind her, but just as ready to get his mouth on the pretty boy about to walk through the door.

Harry steps inside, and for half a second, Louis wants to cry over how worn out he looks.  But then Harry’s eyes find his own and he smiles that crooked smile that gets a little more crooked when he’s tired, and everything seems okay for the first time since he fell asleep with that smile pressed against the back of his neck last night.

“Hi,” Harry giggles past Gracie’s head as he tries to guide her back onto all four legs.

“Hey, you.”

“Smells orgasmic in here.”

Louis’ smile grows.  “Got a few treats for you tonight.”

Gracie barks at that, and Louis winces at his choice of words.  Harry just keeps laughing and grabs a jar from atop the refrigerator, throwing her a bone-shaped peanut butter treat which she gleefully takes into the living room, giving them some privacy.

Louis takes two big steps forward and sinks into Harry’s embrace, breathing him in, his skin smelling of sugar and sweat and…smoke?

“I stink, Lou.”

“Yes, you do.”

Harry snorts out a laugh.  “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Louis whispers, bringing his hands up to Harry’s overheated cheeks and pulling him into a kiss.

“I love you, three,” Harry says, his smile interrupting their kiss.

“Glad today wasn’t so bad that you aren’t still a dork,” Louis says, giving him a wink and another peck on the lips before guiding him to the table.  “What happened today, love?”

“One of the new girls started a fire.  Actually, it wasn’t really her fault.  Everyone’s fine, it just kind of threw the rest of the day off.  No damage or anything, just ruined a lot of food we spent the whole morning working on.”

“Oh, Haz,” Louis coos, pushing on his shoulders just enough so that he drops into his chair.  “I’m so sorry.  You could have called me, you know.”

“I know.  I should have.  Would’ve made me feel better, that’s for sure.  It was just really chaotic.  It’s okay, though.  Liam came in, and we got everything figured out.  I’m just tired.”

“Well, you have to eat first.  I didn’t sweat for hours in the kitchen for you to go to bed without dinner.”

Harry digs in immediately, moaning around the food that Louis knows isn’t as good as he’s making it out to be.  He probably hasn’t eaten all day either.

“Good,” is all Harry manages to get out.

They eat in silence for several minutes until Harry asks, “How was your day?”

Louis sighs.  “It was shit, if I’m honest.  Exhausting.”  He meets Harry’s eyes and smiles, “Better now, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, putting his fork down and wiping his hands across his face, his elbows on the table.  “God, it sucks when we both have days like this.  I fucking hate it.”

Louis puts his fork down, too, not even bothering to take the bite he’d already stabbed off of his plate, and stands.  Harry watches him move, not surprised at all when Louis plants himself in his lap sideways and leans his shoulder against his chest.  He rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and kisses his neck as Harry runs his fingertips over the soft material covering his back.

“I’m fine,” Louis says.  “Let me take care of you tonight, yeah?”

Harry’s motions stop as he wraps both arms around Louis’ body.  He nods, and Louis reaches over to pull his plate in front of them, perfectly content to finish his dinner right there, with Harry’s arms around him as Louis feeds them both.

When they’ve cleared their plates and Harry has squirmed away a few times out of not wanting to make Louis smell, too, Louis takes his hand and leads him to the loo, their fingers intertwined as they walk through the living room and down the hall.

Harry’s breath catches audibly when he walks into the warm, dim room and realizes what’s happening.  Louis’ heart sores.  “Get in.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.  Just don’t fall asleep, okay?”

Harry yanks his arm back when he kisses him on the forehead and tries to leave.  “Baby, wait.  Don’t…want you to stay.  Get in with me.”

“Haz, I’ve already showered.  And I have to finish putting together the spectacular romance package,” he teases.

Harry seems to weigh the options, a task he can’t really complete without knowing what Louis has up his sleeve.  But he looks cute when he gets all pensive, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Get in the tub, Haz,” Louis says firmly, a smirk on his face.

“Fine.”

Louis squeezes his hand one last time and dashes out the door before Harry can catch him.  He opens up the closet in their room and gathers some miscellaneous candles from a box that usually gets some attention when one of them is trying to make the other feel better.  Or trying to get laid.  Usually both.

He starts to gather clothes for Harry but then decides against it.  Part three of the spectacular romance package does not require or allow clothing of any kind.  He lights the candles placed on every steady surface around their room and turns out the lights.  It looks beautiful, and it’ll only be even more breathtaking when Harry is lying on those cool sheets, skin clean and damp from his bath.

He tiptoes back to the loo, intent on sneaking a peek of his gorgeous boy before he notices his presence.  Turns out, he didn’t need to be so quiet.  Harry is asleep in the bathtub, dead to the world, the water rippling around his chest with each slow breath.

Louis steps forward and sits on the edge of the tub, just taking a moment to watch his eyelids flutter as he starts to dream.

“Darling," he nearly whispers, running his fingertips over Harry's arm gently.

Harry blinks his eyes open almost carefully and inhales deeply.  “Sorry,” he mumbles.  “’M knackered.”

“I know, love.  Let’s wash that hair.”

“Will you help me?”

Louis stands and strips out of his clothes, not forgetting to catch Harry’s expression when he notices his pants.  “Was gonna let _you_ take these off, but I don’t want to get them all wet.”  He looks over his shoulder as he puts on a show and winks.  “Although, I guess they would have gotten wet at some point anyway.”

Harry moans unabashedly and leans forward, waiting for Louis to slide in behind him.  “What exactly are you planning to do to me tonight?”

Louis steps into the water, pleased to find it still at a comfortable temperature, and sits down.  He rests his legs on Harry’s and reaches for the shampoo, squeezing out a dollop and running it through Harry’s wet hair.  He hums in pleasure, and Louis sees the goosebumps rising on the back of his neck as he gathers his hair in his hand.

He grins.  “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”  He uses the glass they keep nearby to rinse the water from his curls and kisses his neck when the suds have washed out.  “If you can stay awake, that is.”

“Don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

Harry’s breathing hasn’t been even for a while now, what with the way Louis hasn’t stopped touching him since he joined him in the tub.  He rings his hair dry and puts it in a bun the way Harry likes after baths and wraps his arms around his chest, pulling him closer.  He looks over his shoulder and finds even more proof that Harry is enjoying this, his hard length poking out of the cooling water.

“Want a massage while you wash your face?”

“Lou, you really don’t have to do all of this,” Harry says, leaning his head back against Louis’ shoulder.  “You had a shit day, too.”

“I want to.  Now hush, and clean that beautiful face so I can kiss it properly.”

He doesn’t see Harry’s smile, but he can feel it.  He takes a bar of soap and lathers it up in his hands, pressing his fingertips into Harry’s tense muscles, cleaning him as he works out the knots in his shoulders.  Harry washes his face and the parts of his body that Louis can’t reach, and Louis steps out as he finishes.  He wraps one of the towels around his hips and holds the other open for Harry as he stands, water dripping from his long limbs.  Harry doesn’t take it from him, simply moves closer and lets Louis wrap it around his shoulders as he leans against him from head to toe.

“Ready for your next surprise?”

Harry pulls back, a wicked smile playing across his lips.  “If it entails what I’m picturing in my head right now, I’ve been ready for some time.”

Louis giggles and slaps him on the arse, “You naughty boy.”

Harry proves his point by leaning forward to nip at his earlobe.  “You have no idea.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two, aka the smut :)
> 
> Well, folks, it's looking like we've got about ten chapters to go! As always, thank you for reading and for your wonderful support!

Louis does, by now, have a pretty good idea of how naughty Harry can be.

“Come on then, bad boy,” he purrs.

He lets his towel fall to the floor and walks out into the hallway, swinging his hips in a teasing rhythm guaranteed to make Harry follow.  He’s just as ready as Harry, his cock hanging hard between his legs and his skin tingling, desire flowing through him like an electric current.

He hears the sound of the door clicking shut not two seconds after he enters their bedroom and feels a gust of air rush over his back, giving him only a moment’s notice before Harry is pressed against him, his hands spread over Louis’ hips, his mouth on the side of his neck, and his cock pushing up against his arse.

“Don’t know how I got so lucky,” Harry breathes, sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot on Louis’ neck that never fails to make him give Harry the noises he’s waiting for.

Louis can’t do much but simply take it, whimpering quietly and then not-so-quietly anymore as Harry’s hands move down to this bum, fingers digging into his flesh and spreading him enough to graze a dry finger over his hole.  Harry’s breath is fast and hot on his neck, moistening his skin all over again as Louis lets him take whatever he wants, whatever he needs.

“Was gonna finger myself open before you came home, get myself all ready for you,” Louis says, his voice pained and on edge.  “Know how much you like it, though.  How you love to get your fingers in me, make me come just from that before you fuck me and make me come again.”  He’s not sure how he’s making all these words come out of his mouth, isn’t sure if they’re even making sense, but Harry is outright moaning now, so he must be grasping the point either way.  It’s no secret that both of them get pretty turned on by the other spouting out all kinds of dirty nonsense, so he keeps talking.  “Couldn’t take that away from you.  It’s your night, after all.”

Suddenly, he’s being turned around, and a moment later, his legs are wrapped around Harry’s hips.  Harry is only ever this smooth when they’re having sex, and it always affects Louis a little too much.  He throws his arms around his head and smashes their lips together, trying not to come already with the tease of Harry’s cock rubbing against him just right.

“How thoughtful of you,” Harry says, breathing the words into Louis’ mouth.  He walks them over to the bed and lays Louis out over the sheets where he’d pulled down the duvet after he’d lit the candles earlier.  He climbs over him, keeping their bodies close and their lips closer.  “What do you want?”

Louis loses his breath for a moment when Harry bites at his neck again and pulls his leg up against his hip, spreading him out a little farther.  “Anything,” he manages to get out.  “Everything.”

And then Harry’s mouth is gone from his, the cool air brushing over his overheated lips.  Harry hauls him up the bed in one smooth motion, repositioning him quickly and efficiently before moving down his body, pressing his swollen lips against his neck and his chest and his belly and the coarse hair right above where Louis wants them the most.

Well, he thought that was where he wanted them the most.  That is, until his hips leave the bed, Harry’s hands holding him up, and those perfect lips are kissing gently over his hole.  And yeah, this is better.

It takes him a minute to realize the breathy, frantic sounds he’s hearing are coming from his own mouth as Harry flattens his tongue over his entrance, licking up the smooth skin and back down to let his tongue dip inside.

“Haz…please,” he whispers, sliding his fingers through Harry’s hair.  He’s not really sure what he’s asking for, just knows that he needs more.  More of everything.

“So gorgeous, Lou,” Harry says, so gently it makes Louis’ eyes prickle with tears.  “Love you so much, baby.  Look so pretty like this, all spread out for me.  Make me so crazy.”

Louis’ fingertips reach the curls pulled into a bun at the crown of Harry’s head, and he pulls on the band, letting them spill out around his face so that he has something to hold on to as Harry pushes him closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, he feels a finger prodding along his aching skin, and he pushes down onto it, needing more.  “C’mon, baby, gimme it.”

“Give you anything you want,” Harry says right back, the crack in his voice betraying his cool, smooth performance, as he slips inside.  He leans forward to kiss over Louis’ belly button.  “Make you feel good, baby.”

It’s not a question.  The bastard knows he does.  He knows he’s the only one who ever has.  The only one who ever will.

“So good to me, Hazzah.”

Harry chooses that moment to sink another finger into him and start to scissor them inside, stretching him slowly and thoroughly.

This goes on for some time, Harry taking him apart just as good as always as Louis gets louder and quieter and louder again under his hands and his lips and his impenetrable gaze Louis catches every time he comes up for air.

“You want another?” he asks, pulling Louis from his pleasurable haze.

“No, need you.  ‘M ready.  Wanna feel you.”  The words come out in a staccato rhythm, like he has to force each syllable out.

Harry’s fingers slip out of him, but they don’t go far, inching up his sides up to his nipples.  He takes one in between his thumb and forefinger and pinches it hard enough that Louis can’t stop the whimper that escapes his throat.  “Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Just want it to hurt a little.  Want to feel you tomorrow.”  Louis is almost sobbing at this point, really wishes Harry would just get on with it before he explodes.  He’s not being dramatic at all.

“Fine, but slow.”  This is Harry pretending to compromise, but they both know they both want it like that tonight anyway.

“Make love to me then.”

Harry moves up his body the rest of the way until their lips connect, much softer than before.  “I love you,” he whispers, his voice like warm honey.  He says it so quietly, like it’s a secret.  It’s not.  Anyone who spends more than thirty seconds with them knows how gone they are for each other.  But it tells Louis that Harry is just as overwhelmed as he feels right now.

“Show me.”

Harry uncaps the lube Louis set out on the bedside table and slicks himself up, applying a liberal amount to Louis, as well.  He lines himself up, the head of his cock catching on Louis’ rim before slowly slipping inside.

Louis digs his nails into Harry’s back, holding on tightly as he pushes deeper and deeper inside, tiny, experimental thrusts filling him up, making him hold his breath until Harry finally hits the spot he’s aiming for.

He cries out Harry’s name, and his hips jerk off of the bed, crashing against Harry’s weight with nowhere to go.  “Fuck, Haz…ah!”  His screams are swallowed by Harry as his mouth opens against Louis’ in a scorching kiss.

“Feel so fucking good,” Harry pants, his breath hot on Louis’ skin as he moves inside him and against him and all over him.

“God, please, baby,” Louis squirms against him, clenches around him, begging for what he needs, what he knows Harry will give him for the rest of his life.

“I’ve got you.  Got you.” Harry breathes, reaching an arm back to run his hand along Louis’ leg wrapped around his back, where his heels are pressing into him, encouraging him to go faster, harder.  “Don’t get mad, but… _shit_ …I’m probably going to cry tonight.”

Louis giggles at that, at the look of distress on his beautiful face and the light feeling he gets in his chest every time Harry makes him laugh when he’s balls deep.  “Why would I get mad that you love me arse so much, it makes you cry?”

“You cocky shit,” Harry says, laughter in his voice.

“I believe you’re the cocky one, love.”

“Oh my God, shut up and let me fuck you.”

“No one’s stopping you, Harry. Enough with the excuses.”

Louis’ teasing is cut short when Harry pulls out just to slam back into him exactly how he said he wasn’t going to tonight.  Louis rocks his hips up into Harry’s body as well as he can with Harry’s weight against him, his legs still wrapped around him and his cock bright red and leaking all over both of them.

Harry is nailing his prostate with every thrust, forcing whimpers and moans and every other kind of noise out of Louis in a steady rhythm.  His skin is on fire, his toes curling, his lungs struggling to keep up the pace.  The wild beating of his heart slows momentarily as Harry reaches up and brushes the fringe matted with sweat from his forehead, leaning down to kiss where the cool air now washes over his skin.

The shift in angle has Louis’ head reeling as Harry gets right where he needs to be.  “Oh fuck, Ha-Harry…’M so close, baby,” he whimpers, every muscle, every nerve in his body simultaneously trying to reach his peak and pull back to have this for even one minute longer.

“Yeah?” he growls.  And shit.  Harry’s voice is as deep as it’s ever been, his breath puffing out against Louis’ temple so hot it burns.  “Love it so much, don’t you, baby?  Don’t even need to touch you, you love it so much.  Love how I can take you apart and put you back together again.  Love how it’s so good, you can’t breathe.”

Louis is going to lose the battle unfolding inside of him, can feel himself hurtling toward orgasm, the sweet ache in his belly climbing dangerously high with every sickeningly sweet word falling from Harry’s lips.  He whispers some unintelligible response, can’t hear anything over the pounding static in his ears, but it must be what Harry wanted because just as Louis succumbs to what his body is screaming for, Harry comes, too.  His hips still after thrusting in one last time, pulsing out string after string of warmth deep inside of him as he pants into Louis’ neck.

His big hands roam all over Louis’ body, slipping in the mess he just made on his own stomach and pressing bruises into his heated skin with his fingertips.  They hold one another close, still connected and breathing in sync, as they come down from their highs.

After several minutes pass, Louis starts squirming like he always does to signal his oversensitivity and Harry gives him a few more gentle thrusts before pulling out slowly, just like he always does.  Louis had made the mistake of confessing once that he maybe, sort of liked it.  A lot.  And Harry took him very seriously, more than content to give him exactly what he wants every single time.

“Get off of me, you big oaf.”

Harry’s lips turn down in a frown, but Louis can see the smile in his eyes.  “But I love you,” he says, his voice climbing up as if he might laugh.

“I love you, too,” Louis whispers, reaching up to tuck a curl behind Harry’s ear and pulling him down for a kiss.  “Go get a flannel, we’re disgusting.”

“’S not disgusting, Lou, it’s beautiful.”

“Well, see, you always say that, but then we always seem to agree on mornings when you haven’t cleaned us up that it is, in fact, disgusting.  So go get a flannel.  I’m exhausted from spoiling you all night.”

Harry’s smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky, Louis is sure of it.  “Thank you,” he says.  “Thank you for spoiling me.”

“Any time, my love.”

“I love you.”

“Stop procrastinating, Harry.”

He groans, his smile still giving him away, and stands, stretching those glorious back muscles that Louis will never not want to lick all over, before retreating to the loo with one last wink over his shoulder.  What a loser.  Louis loves him more than anything.

He returns seconds later, damp cloth in hand, and sits on the edge of the bed, bending a leg to press up against Louis’ hip where it lies atop the sweat-soaked sheets.

Louis watches intently as Harry runs the cool material over his skin, his eyes locked on his angelic features, the way his eyebrows furrow with concentration as he takes care of him, the way his lips open around silent gasps when he stumbles upon love bites he made in the heat of the moment.

“Hey.”

Harry looks up, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.  “Hey, yourself.”

Louis smiles, can’t help it when those green eyes are shining.  Harry looks at him sometimes with such adoration that it knocks the air from his lungs.  The only way to recover, he’s found, is to throw that look back at him, until they’re both breathless and learning to breathe all over again together.

“You’re not crying.”

Harry snorts out a laugh.  “No, I held it together.  Are you proud of me?”

“I am, you sap.”

“Says the boy who cried, like, the first fifteen times we made love.”

Louis is still smiling, his cheeks starting to ache with the weight of it.  “How’s a boy to resist when you call it that?”

Harry tosses the flannel to the corner of the room, forgotten for now, and lies down beside him, curling his body against Louis’ back.  He runs his fingers over his stomach, up to his chest, drawing lazy circles in his chest hair out of habit.  “That’s what it is, innit?”

Louis nods, words failing him as he starts to drift into a dream.

“You know what?” Harry whispers, his breath tickling Louis’ ear.

“What’s that, petal?”

He can feel Harry’s smile grow against his skin just how it always does when he lets that particular term of endearment slip.

“Was just thinking how it feels like I never lost you at all.”

Louis’ heart beats a little stronger, to the rhythm of those beautiful words.  He hopes Harry can hear it.  He lifts Harry’s wrist from where it lies on the bed in front of him, pressing a soft kiss to his softer skin.

“You never did.”


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spot the Captive Prince reference, we can be friends. :)  
> Thanks for reading and for the wonderful comments. I feel like I say this with every update, but it really means the world to me.  
> Hope you enjoy!

The weekend finally rolls around after a long week of meetings and hyper children on Louis’ end and an equally busy week at the café on Harry’s.  Two things have gotten Louis through it, having Harry all to himself every night and the promise of a long overdue Saturday night with the boys.  It’s finally Saturday, and Louis is so, so ready to see their friends and dance with his boy and throw back a few too many pints.

“Hey, babe!  I’m home!” Harry calls from the kitchen.

Louis smiles and drops the clothes he’d been folding on the bed, immediately turning and running out of the bedroom and down the hall toward that beautiful voice.  Harry meets him in the living room, a matching smile on his face, and Louis jumps into his arms without preamble, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Harry will catch him.  He always does.

“Hello, lover,” he purrs into his ear before connecting their lips for the first time in far too long, since he'd had to leave before the sun rose in the sky to fix some kind of disaster at the cafe that Liam apparently couldn't handle on his own. Louis was annoyed, naturally, and Harry had kissed his lips raw before rushing out the door with a "the sooner I leave, the sooner I can come back home to you, my love."

Harry’s hands cover his bum, holding him up, his fingers digging into his muscles over his pants.  His breathing grows heavier as their kiss deepens and he starts walking them back to the bedroom.  He whines when Louis takes his lips from his and whines even louder when those lips find the sensitive spot on his neck that Louis is so familiar with.

Sparks shoot up Louis’ spine at Harry’s response, his every little sound, his strength as he walks into the room and lowers Louis to the bed.  He’s sure to miss the laundry, because of course he is.  No matter how hot things are in the moment, he’s always careful.  Gentle.  Delicate.  That’s just Harry.  His Harry.

“Can’t wait for tonight,” Harry pants above him.

“Yeah?  What’ve you got planned, my love?”

“Not telling.  ‘S a surprise,” he mumbles, his lips painting the slurred words on Louis’ own opening against his.

“You just want to watch me shake me arse in public, you naughty boy,” Louis says, giving him a wink to go with the sly grin on his face.

“Um, yeah,” Harry chuckles, “thought that was obvious.”

Louis slaps his chest gently before bringing him down for another kiss.  “I have an idea.”

“Does it involve my tongue in said arse?  Because if so, I agree.  One hundred percent.”

“Harry, I’m serious,” he says, breaking their kiss and forcing him to look into his eyes.  “I want to try something, but you have to want it, too.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to have sex right now.”

“Uh…okay?  You sure?” Harry asks, confused as he reaches down to grip Louis’ cock, which is decidedly very ready for sex, through the thin material of his briefs.

A giggle erupts from Louis’ throat.  “I want to, like…um…edge you.  Just a little.  And you can do the same to me.  And then tonight when we get home,” he reaches up to run his fingers through Harry’s hair and down his neck and feels the goosebumps as they prickle Harry’s skin, “you can fuck me hard just like I know you want to right now, and it’ll be even better because we wanted it all day.”

“Maybe I want you to fuck me,” Harry says, his lips turning up in a smile.

“We can do that, too.”

“Okay,” Harry nods.  “I’m in.”

And that’s that.

Two hours later, Louis regrets ever sharing his idea with Harry, who took to the challenge with vigor and is now driving Louis absolutely mad.

“Baby… _oh_ …baby, you have to stop.  I can’t anymore,” Louis whimpers, his entire body shivering with need as Harry’s mouth envelops him once more.  “I’m gonna…I’m gonna come.  Stop!”

“No, you’re not,” Harry growls, placing a firm hold around the base of his leaking cock.  “’Cause if you do, I’m not going to fuck you later.  And you want that, don’t you, love?”

“Yes,” he whispers, every nerve on fire, every muscle in his body coiled tight and ready to snap.  “Need you.”

“I need a break,” Harry laughs into his neck, having already been at Louis’ mercy for the first hour of their little experiment.

Louis giggles, “You wanna just make out?”

Harry’s laughter lights up the room, brightening everything in its path.  “I really do, sunshine.”

Louis wouldn’t say either one of them does a great job at helping the other calm down exactly.  But it’s nice, even so.  Just to touch without an agenda, to kiss and have that be the focus, to whisper sweet nothings just because they can.

When their lips are swollen and their necks are covered in bruises and their mouths don’t taste like anything but each other, they lie together in the quiet room, fingertips running over tired lips and smooth cheekbones as they watch one another blink.

Louis’ fingers travel down Harry’s chest, stopping at the birds tattooed below his collarbones.  “You have so many,” he says, still in awe at this body he gets to touch every day and the art that adorns his skin.

Harry nods, reaching out to trace over some of Louis’ own tattoos.  “Do you have a favorite?”

Louis draws a line down his chest and over to his arm where his mermaid lies.  “Probably Syreni,” he whispers.

Harry breathes out a quiet chuckle.  “When did you realize it was her?”

“That day you took me to the pond.  I’m not _that_ dense, Haz.”

“You are.  A little bit.”

Louis giggles.  Because he’s right.  It took him way too long to realize a lot of things.  He moves his hand up his arm, caressing the ship nestled in the collection of drawings there.  “Love this one, too.  Still can’t believe it, if I’m honest.”

“Neither can I,” Harry says, smoothing his thumb over the compass inked on Louis’ forearm.  He runs his fingers over the random pieces surrounding it.  “I love all of these little ones.”

“Most of them are pretty stupid,” Louis chuckles.

“They’re perfect.”  His hand moves higher until it reaches the elk on his upper arm.  He traces over the faded lines of the antlers and the heart held inside.  “You are such a sap.”

He knew Harry recognized the design.  Of course he did.  But hearing him say it is something else.

“ _Luna_ has delicious pasta.  I had to pay tribute to the carbonara.”

A quiet laugh falls from Harry’s lips before he leans forward and presses them against Louis’ cheek.  “Mhm.  I’m sure that’s your reason.  Wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that _Luna_ is where you took me on our first date.  And every proper date after that.”

Louis’ smile grows as Harry continues to shower him with kisses.  “Of course not.”

He relents before it gets too heated, and Louis pushes him onto his back, leaning over him.  He refocuses his attention on the birds flying over his smooth chest.  “We both have birds, too.”

Harry nods, an expression of discomfort or maybe disbelief peeking through.  “Do you like them?”

Louis smiles, confused a bit by Harry’s hesitant tone.  “They’re beautiful, Haz.”

Harry reaches up, resting his hand over Louis’ as he traces the thin lines.  He moves their hands together to cover the smaller one.  His voice is so quiet when he speaks.  “This one is you.”

Louis meets his eyes.  “What?”

Harry taps the bird again.  “This one is you,” he says and moves to the other, “and this one is me.”

Louis studies them more closely, sees the difference in the faces.  “You…when did you get them?”

“They were one of the first actually.  Wanted you with me.”

Louis can feel the tears prickling behind his eyes, so he moves closer before they can fall, pressing his lips gently against his bird and more forcefully against Harry’s.  “I’m with you now.”

Harry smiles and wipes the wetness from Louis’ eyes, tears having fallen despite his half-hearted attempts to hold them in.  “Thank you,” he whispers.  “For being here.”

“’S my favorite place to be,” Louis sniffles, shuffling down the bed and resting his cheek against Harry’s chest.  “Want to nap until we have to leave to meet the lads?”

Harry’s arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, holding him close, and he falls asleep before he manages to respond.

Louis’ tired eyes catch on Harry’s hand where it has slipped to rest against his shoulder, and he has one last thought before he drifts into his own dreams colored by auburn curls and forest green eyes.  And that is how perfect a white gold ring would look around one very special finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten a few comments asking me to keep writing this fic, and I have a few responses! First, I will definitely be coming back to this fic from time to time. I have an epilogue planned already, and I will most likely write a few timestamps, so don't fret! I'm glad you guys love this story as much as I do. And second, I have a few other fics planned to write later this summer and through the fall. So please, please, please stay tuned! I've got more for y'all.
> 
> Thank you so much for the wonderful love and support, I can't tell you what it means to me that anyone is even reading my writing at all, but your kindness is truly unbelievable. I could never have imagined the joy I've experienced writing this. <3


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this chapter, and the next one will be wild because it's literally all smut, once again. Hope you enjoy!

“Hey!” Niall cries, flinging himself toward Louis and Harry and throwing his arms around both of them.  “’Bout time you got your arses here!”

Niall backs off and the rest of the boys come in for hugs.  “Y’alright there, Lou?” Zayn asks.  “Look a little peaky.”

Harry chooses that moment to dig his fingers into Louis’ bum through his jeans where his hand has been resting from the moment they walked inside the pub.  The pressure sends a jolt up Louis’ spine, pure, unfiltered need racing right back down at the thought of what those hands did this morning and again not even an hour ago.  Judging by the shiver that rolls off of Harry’s body pressed against him, Louis knows he feels it, too.

“Eh…yeah.  ‘M good, mate,” he answers much too late.  “All good here.  How’re you?”

Zayn and Liam eye them both suspiciously as Louis tries not squirm, Harry’s big hand still covering his arse, digging into his skin in the most delicious tease.

“Well, I’m about to serenade this tall drink of water, so no complaints on my end,” Liam coos, pressing a kiss to Zayn’s temple.

A bright pink flush rushes over Zayn’s cheeks.  “Aw, baby, you’re too good to me.”

“Don’t I know it,” Liam says, giggling as Zayn smacks his bum when he walks away.

“You too are pretty cute, but I think we win,” Zayn says, turning back to them.

Harry laughs, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Zayn’s mouth opens in response, but Louis cuts him off.  “You know what?  I actually don’t want to know what helps you sleep at night.  I’ve a feeling it would give me nightmares.”

Zayn’s laughter is loud and bright.  “You’re probably right, mate.  Just use your imaginations.  I’ve heard you two, and you seem to be _very_ imaginative.”

It’s Louis’ turn to blush, and he can feel his cheeks heating up as Harry’s arm comes up to snake around his waist, pulling him even closer.  He leans down just a little, breathing against Louis’ ear.  “Going to go set up.  You didn’t forget about your surprise, did you?”

Louis had.  But to be fair, he’s been pretty distracted all day by Harry’s fingers and his tongue and those perfect, kiss-bitten lips.  “Get up there, then.  Show me what you’ve got.”  He lifts his hands to tangle in Harry’s loose curls and pulls him into a kiss.  He turns it dirty before Harry even has the chance, sliding his tongue into his mouth, eliciting a throaty moan from his boy.  “You look so fucking sexy,” he growls, his breath hot against Harry’s insistent lips.  “Go.”

After one more forceful kiss and another gentle one accompanied by a quiet giggle, Harry leaves, his hand not leaving Louis’ until the last moment, their arms reaching out toward each other until they drop to their sides as their fingers finally let go.

Louis busies himself, ordering drinks and chatting with Ed, while Harry and Liam set up their equipment.  Zayn is in a daze, his whole attention on every move Liam makes up on the stage.  Niall is talking to a girl Louis is pretty sure he’s seen before over in the corner, his “cool Niall” expression evidently doing its job based on the way the girl is giggling and moving closer with every second.

Louis joins Zayn at his table and waves Niall over, the girl following cheerfully.

“Mates, this is Savannah.  She’s visiting from the states.”  He points to Louis, “This is Louis, my best mate.  He’s with Harry.”  He pauses to point up at Harry, and Louis can’t help but follow his movement, his smile broadening when Harry notices them and laughs.  “And that’s Liam next to him, and this is his boyfriend, Zayn,” Niall continues, pointing at all of them rather comically.

“Nice to meet you,” Savannah says, reaching out to shake their hands.  “Your buddy Niall here is quite the charmer.”

That prompts a bit of laughter from both of them, and Niall crosses his arms over his chest dramatically.  “Hey!”

Savannah is still giggling at him, and Niall always looks happy, but this is something else.  Louis never wants him to lose it.

They’re interrupted by Harry’s deep voice sounding through the microphone as he adjusts its height.  “Good evening, everyone.  I’m Harry.  This is Liam.  We’re very excited to play for you tonight.  I do see some familiar faces in the audience.”  The room breaks out in applause, and it is only now that Louis realizes how crowded the pub is.  His heart soars with pride as he watches Harry light up the room.  “Most especially, my boyfriend.  His name is Louis, and he’s sitting right there blushing,” he says, winking at him, knowing exactly what he’s doing.  The audience applauds, their laughter and wolf whistles reaching Louis’ bright red ears.  Harry yells over them, “You all ready to get this show on the road?!”

The crowd gets louder and louder still as the first notes of the song drift through the room.  “This one’s for you, my love.”  Laughter erupts from Louis mouth when he recognizes the song, Harry’s eyes never leaving him, watching for his reaction.

Harry’s lips are still turned up in a smile as he starts to sing, Liam vocalizing beside him and obviously trying not to laugh.  “Just shoot for the stars, if it feels right.  And aim for my heart, if you feel like.  Take me away and make it okay, I swear I’ll behave.”

As Liam picks up the next verse, Louis’ mind drifts back to that night, one of their first together.  Joy floods his heart at the memory.  The look on Harry’s face when he’d compared him to Mick Jagger, embarrassed but secretly pleased.  Harry’s teasing, the way he knows so well how to break Louis down and get what they both want.  The desperation of their lovemaking.  The tenderness of their arms wrapped around one another, their legs tangled under the sheets as they fell asleep, their hearts slowing to beat as one.

“Take me by the tongue, and I’ll know you.  Kiss me ‘til you’re drunk, and I’ll show you all the moves like Jagger,” Harry croons, swinging his hips and kicking his legs about, doing his very best impression of the legend himself.  “I’ve got the moooooves like Jagger.”

Niall jumps off of his stool, pulling his girl toward the stage.  Before Louis looks away from them, Zayn is tugging on his hand, bringing him closer to the stage, closer to Harry.  Louis would never object to that.  They dance to the music, the beat loud and heavy and Harry’s voice as beautiful as always with a hint of amusement in his tone.

When Harry reaches what Louis knows is his favorite part of the song, he reaches his hand up and waits for only a moment before Harry is lifting him up on the stage.  He rips the microphone from its stand and pulls Louis close, their chests moving against one another as they dance and Harry sings.  “So watch and learn, I won’t show you twice.  Head to toe, oooh baby, rub me right.”  He hits his high note, and the pub explodes in excitement.

Louis is sweating all over the place, his breath short and frantic, still incredibly turned on but slightly distracted by the fun of dancing with his boy on the stage as he puts on a performance just for him.  He kisses Harry’s cheek once and hops down, rejoining his friends on the floor, and lets him finish his song.

When it’s over, the pub erupts in applause that drowns out Louis’ laughter.  Harry is laughing, too, his teeth glistening under the lights, little crinkles by his eyes, his hair getting a bit wild with the warm air and his movement.  He’s beautiful.

“I’ve got one more for Louis, if that’s okay,” Harry says then, charming the room with those dimples Louis can’t wait to kiss later.  Harry meets his eyes, holding them together, suspended in time for just a few moments before he speaks.  “I love you.”

The red hits Harry’s cheeks and moves up to his ears hiding under his hair.  Louis can feel a matching shade creeping up his own as he returns Harry’s smile.

Harry grabs his guitar from the back of the stage, strumming a few strings before settling down on a stool and reaching out to adjust the microphone again.

Liam is suddenly swaying up to Zayn, sitting beside him and kissing him quickly.  Louis hadn’t even noticed his departure from the stage, his focus entirely on Harry, partly in order to avoid thinking about how hard he is right now, his cock pressing uncomfortably against his jeans.

“Pss!” Louis whispers, trying to get Liam’s attention and lips off of Zayn’s ear.  “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to sing a song about your sex life,” he says bluntly, a sly grin on his face.

Louis huffs out a surprised laugh and turns back to see Harry watching him intently.  He starts to play, a slow melody Louis has never heard before being plucked by his long fingers, drifting from his guitar directly to Louis’ heart.  His fiery expression does not match the gentleness of the music, and Louis suddenly can’t remember what his lungs are for.

“Got a feeling we are gonna win,” Harry sings softly.  “Our bodies make it perfect, and your eyes can make me swim.”

Louis listens as he continues, his voice deep and smooth as he spins a tale of love and need and desire.  Flashes of moments over the last year play in Louis’ head, memories dancing along to Harry’s crooning.

“Your eyes are saying more than we can talk and warmer than our bedroom sport.”  Niall snickers beside Louis as his cheeks redden for the hundredth time tonight.  “And your thighs are kisses from the outside.  Boy, that’s all I need.”

Tears burn behind Louis’ eyes, and he can’t decide if it’s even appropriate considering the sexual nature of the song, but he couldn’t care less.  Harry’s voice wobbles as he sings the chorus, and Louis knows it means more than what it might sound like to all of the strangers in the pub.  Louis can’t help but feel as if they’re all eavesdropping on this private moment.

“When I press an ear up to your chest, I can hear the rhythm start.  It’s hard to tell our beats apart,” Harry continues after clearing his throat, smiling when Louis giggles, knowing why he needed to.  “So I hope you’re listening right now ‘cause I can barely hold my tongue.  The shit we do could warm the sun.”

A tear finally falls from Louis’ eye, and he wipes it away quickly, set on turning this from a sappy declaration to a promise of what is to come as soon as he can get Harry out of here and to their bed.  They may not even make it that far.  He steadies his gaze, and the tiny gasp that escapes Harry’s throat before he sings the next line may go unnoticed by the audience, but Louis hears it.  Loud and clear.

“And I twisted in a melting fall and sleeping with the scratching claws.  And your words let me know you’re feeling me and seeing all the things I see.”

And that’s it.  He needs to get off of that stage and out of the door right now.  Because Louis is going to absolutely _destroy_ him.

He waits impatiently for Harry to finish, his eyes not leaving Louis’ the entire time.  Louis finally tears away from his stare to pierce Liam with a frantic look.  “You’re performing the rest of the set all by yourself, mate,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Is that so?” Liam asks with a smirk.

“Unless you want to see a live reenactment of this song, yes.”  He stands and addresses the very amused girl sat next to Niall, reaching out a hand to grasp hers firmly, “Nice to meet you, love.  Niall, we’ll talk later, mate.”

And with that, he rushes to the side of the stage where Harry is already making his way down the steps.  “Take me home,” Louis purrs, pulling him close and breathing into his ear, “ _now_.”  He has just enough time to notice the goosebumps pop up on Harry’s neck before he’s being lifted, his legs wrapping around Harry’s hips in perfected practice as Harry holds him up.  Louis smashes their mouths together, Harry’s lips opening under his own to allow his tongue to dip inside.

“My pleasure,” Harry growls.

Over the sound of the crowd whooping and cheering, they hear Niall yell out in faux disgust.  “I need a bloody shower!  Get outta here!”

Harry doesn’t stop laughing until Louis gets him in the backseat of the car for one last round of teasing before bringing him home.

Louis’ got his own song for Harry.  A melody of soft touches and deep kisses.  Lyrics composed of uneven breaths and quiet moans spoken into bedsheets.  A rhythm of synced heartbeats felt through warm skin.

And Harry is going to feel every note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite songs everrrr and the acoustic version is beyond beautiful. [Check it out!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DuX2MkflGYs)


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the longer wait! Please forgive me, it was finals time!  
> Please enjoy some smut and fluffy boys in love. :)  
> We're getting close to the end! Thanks as always for sticking with me!

Louis’ back hits the wall before the door even closes behind Harry.  The lights are off in their flat, and Harry will definitely run into something when he carries Louis to their bedroom in the frantic way he always does when they do it like this.  Fast and desperate and heavy.  Louis’ heart hammers in his chest as Harry licks into his mouth, digs his fingers into his sides.  All he has to do is grind against him a little, and Harry will be dragging him to bed in no time.

Louis swallows Harry’s whimpered moans as he moves against him, thrusting his hips into him, his bum not leaving the wall with how close they are.  “Looked so…fucking gorgeous up there,” he pants, trying to speed up the process.  “Everyone in that room wanted you.”

“You’re the only one who gets to have me,” Harry breathes, hooking an arm under Louis’ thigh and bringing it up to his hip.

Louis pulls himself up, his arms wrapped around Harry’s neck and his legs around his waist.  “Forever,” he says, tilting his head and letting the words drip into Harry’s ear.

Harry shivers violently and tightens his hold around Louis’ back, ripping him away from the wall.  He walks out of the kitchen and through the living room, and Louis is just starting to believe he might not trip this time when his balance is thrown off by a huge dog begging for attention.

Louis removes his lips from Harry’s to coo at her lovingly as Harry keeps walking.  “We’ll cuddle later, baby.  I promise.  It’s okay, go to bed.”

Harry snorts into the heated skin of Louis’ neck, “You two are so ridiculous.”

“It’s not Gracie’s fault I can’t keep my hands off of you.  She deserves cuddles.”

Harry never responds, just hurries into the bedroom and closes the door as quickly as he can without slamming the door in her face.  He glides toward the bed, sitting down on top of the duvet before lying back, bringing Louis with him.

Louis follows, kissing him in earnest until laughter bubbles out of both of their throats.

Harry’s smile is so honest, so happy.  “I love you so much.  More than anything in the world.”

“More than dessert?” Louis teases.

“You’re sweeter than the most decadent of treats.”

“More than the Syreni’s pond?”

“I’d rather swim in you.”

“More than your guitar?”

“I make more beautiful music with you.  Jolene is a good girl, but she’s got nothing on this.”

Louis watches Harry blink below him, feels him breathe, his chest moving against his own.  The smile on Louis’ face seems permanent at this point, a dull ache in his cheeks.  “I still can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”  Harry’s eyes flutter shut as Louis’ thumb smooths over his pale skin shining in the moonlight seeping in through the window.  “You’re so beautiful, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes flash open, holding Louis captive in their brilliance.  “Want you.”

“Want you, too,” Louis whispers, leaning in for another kiss.  “Always.”

“Want you inside me tonight, baby,” he whines.  “Please.”

Louis doesn’t waste any more time, climbing off of Harry and standing up to tear off his clothes and to grab the small tube not exactly hidden in the top drawer of his nightstand.  Harry is struggling to get out of his jeans, laughing when Louis fixes him with a look of fond amusement.

“I’m so turned on right now, I can’t think straight.  Get over here.”

Louis comes back, uncapping the lube and reaching down between Harry’s legs as he straddles him, his jeans finally discarded on the floor next to the bed.  “Gonna fuck you nice and slow, baby.  Make you wait for it.  Then you’re going to take care of me, aren’t you, love?  Gonna let me come inside you before you fuck me and make me come again on your cock?”

“Y-yeah,” Harry whimpers, his breath uneven puffs against Louis’ open mouth.  “’M still good from earlier.  C’mon.”

Louis kisses him fiercely once more before pulling his fingers back and wiping the lube still coating them onto his hard, leaking cock.  He lines himself up, waiting for Harry to remember to breathe before pushing in slowly, gently.

Harry gasps under him, his eyelashes dancing along is cheekbones as he breathes in quiet ecstasy.  Louis moves, pressing in farther, bringing them as close as he can manage, listening for every tiny sound Harry wants to give him.

“Love you, love you, love you,” Harry babbles, bringing a smile to Louis’ lips.

“Love you, too, baby.”

Harry’s legs wrap around his waist, his heels pressing into his bum in encouragement, and Louis leans forward, resting his forearms on the pillow cradling Harry’s precious head, his curls spread out around him like a halo.  The change in angle forces a cry from Harry’s throat, a breathy, high-pitched declaration of Louis’ name leaving his lips as Louis kisses him quiet.

“Fuck, Lou!  Please!  Oh…fuck, I’m so close, please, baby,” his screams turn to mumbled whimpers.

Louis thrusts into him steadily and deliberately, his skin catching fire where Harry’s nails are scratching his back, the only sound penetrating the static in his ears that of Harry’s cry as he comes hard, spurting sticky sweetness over his tummy.  He clenches around Louis as he twitches with his orgasm, and Louis follows him over the edge immediately, spilling inside him in hot, wet spurts.

“So much for waiting,” Harry chuckles, lifting his hand up to slide his long fingers into Louis’ hair.

Louis smiles against Harry’s chest where he landed in an exhausted heap as he came down from his high.  “We waited long enough, I reckon.  Today was torture.  Almost came in my pants just watching you dance on that stage.”

Harry’s hand tightens in his hair, and his voice is a touch rougher when he says, “I’m not done with you yet.”  Louis’ back makes contact with the warm duvet damp from Harry’s sweat before he realizes what is happening.  Harry is leaning over him, staring at him so intensely, in trademark Harry fashion.

Louis goes pliant, letting Harry move him however he wants, both out of exhaustion from round one and because he knows it gets Harry going when he lets him throw him around a little bit.  Harry’s smile grows as he discovers Louis’ sly smirk.

“Well then.  Get on with it,” Louis purrs, winking up at him.

Harry attacks him with kisses, pressing his soft lips all over his face and moving on to his neck and collarbones, Louis giggling underneath him.

“Thought you were going to wreck me, baby?” he wheezes through his laughter.  “Been saying all day how you would destroy me once we got here tonight, and now all you can do is cuddle me like the huge sap you are.”

Harry’s lips leave his chest, and Louis glances down to catch his eyes.  “I think you’ll be satisfied,” he growls, grabbing Louis’ shoulder and flipping him over onto his stomach in one smooth motion Louis kind of, definitely saw coming.

He buries his face in the pillow smelling of Harry’s curls, raising his hips eagerly, knowing exactly what is about to happen and wanting it more than anything on Earth.  Before he has time to start getting squirmy, Harry’s hot breath is puffing against his arse cheeks at a tortured pace, like he is as overwhelmed as Louis right now.

Louis shouts into the pillow as Harry’s tongue suddenly glides from his balls all the way to the top of his arse without warning.  “Ahh!  Fuck, Haz!”

He pants into the thin material, moistening it with his breath and drool and maybe a few tears as Harry takes him apart, slowly and tenderly.  He alternates between lapping over his hole and pointing his tongue to enter him, a new surprise every time he comes back.

“Baby, I’m…I’m not gonna last long,” Louis whimpers, need swimming in his voice.

Harry doesn’t respond.  Not verbally anyway.  He licks over him a few more times, pulling another loud moan from Louis, before leaving sweet kisses over his skin, moving from his arse to his lower back to his shoulder blades.  He kisses his neck, breathing hard into Louis’ hair, and then he is gone, leaving the air brushing over Louis’ skin feeling colder than before.

Louis hears the lube click open and holds his breath as a warm finger grazes his entrance already slick from Harry’s spit.  Harry eases two fingers in, moving gently as if Louis hasn’t been ready for hours.

“Baby, I’m ready,” he whines, pushing against him.  “Need you.  Please.”

“Still going to prep you a little,” he says bending over, resting his solid chest against Louis’ arched back.  “Going to fuck you hard.  Just like you deserve.”

White hot desire zips through Louis’ bloodstream, making his hair stand on end, his toes curl into the duvet.  “Fuck, yeah, baby.  Please.”

Harry works him over for another millennium before pulling his fingers out and leaving Louis sobbing into the pillow as he coats himself with more lube.  Finally, _finally_ , the blunt head of Harry’s cock pushes past Louis’ rim, a soft groan drifting from Harry’s mouth straight to Louis’ heart.

“You feel so good, baby.  Oh my God,” Harry pants, guiding Louis’ hips higher and moving harder and deeper with each thrust that propels Louis up the bed.  His head comes dangerously close to banging into the wall after a while, his hands lifting from the bed to hang on to the headboard.  Harry doesn’t relent, keeps pounding into him with delicious force, his low moans hanging in the air, mixing with Louis’ higher-pitched whimpers.  “If you could see yourself right now,” Harry says, his voice pained.  “You look so fucking gorgeous.  Your _back_.  Oh my God, Lou.”

Harry continues his rambling, but Louis barely hears it.  He feels it, though.  He feels the way Harry is filling him up just right, making sure Louis knows he is beautiful and loved and cared for.  He feels the labored breath on his skin each time Harry leans in closer to press soft, reverent kisses to his trembling frame.  He feels Harry from the tip of his toes to the curls at the top of his head.  He feels his heart, beating in time with his own, can hear it thumping like a drum.

Harry is thrusting into him quick and dirty, his hips slapping against Louis’ arse in such a way that Louis knows it will be just a little sore in the morning.  His mind wanders to the first time Harry fucked him this hard, how worried he was when he woke the next morning and discovered a pink tint to Louis’ skin that had lasted through the night.  He had taken Louis in his arms and held him close, kissed him so passionately Louis nearly blacked out, run gentle fingers over his skin while whispering sweet nothings.

Louis’ second orgasm of the night comes as a surprise with how focused he’d been on the memory.  He shoots onto the pillow they’d rested their heads on earlier, clenching around Harry as he rides it out.

“Oh… _Harry_.  Fuck, yeah, baby.”  He isn’t really aware of what he’s saying, but he doesn’t have to talk for long before Harry joins him in a shared bliss.

Harry stays inside of him for a few minutes after he brings Louis down the bed to lie together and come down for the second time tonight.  “Jesus Christ,” he exhales, pulling out and sliding off of Louis’ clammy body, their sweaty skin sticking as he moves against him.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Louis says, his eyes surely sparkling as he tucks a damp curl behind Harry’s ear.

A blush creeps over Harry’s cheeks.  “Right back atcha, hot stuff.”

Louis laughs loudly and unabashedly, “Hot stuff?”

“Mmhm,” Harry hums, pulling him into his chest, nuzzling into his neck and nipping at his ear, “my hot stuff.”

“Harold, we’re gross and our child is crying outside,” Louis chuckles.  “I’ll go grab a flannel, it’s my turn.”  Harry holds him even tighter, like it was a threat rather than an offer.  “Harry, let me go!” he giggles.  “I have to clean you up, you dirty boy.”

Harry groans once more into his ear and kisses his sweaty neck before loosening his hold.  “Fine.”

Louis untangles himself from Harry’s long limbs and slips out of bed, glancing over his shoulder teasingly before walking over to the door, stretching his muscles as he goes.  The moment he opens the door, Gracie starts whining, begging for entrance.  “Wait one more minute, love,” he giggles, reaching down to scratch behind her ear.  “Your daddy made a mess in there.”

He quickly wets a flannel and wipes the drying come from his skin before rinsing it again and squeezing the warm water out into the sink.  He returns to the bedroom to find Harry smiling tiredly, casually lying back against a pillow like royalty, some Greek god or at least the statues erected in their honor.  He tries to remember to breathe as he wipes Harry down, pausing to blow cool air over his wet, clean skin, reveling in the goosebumps that rush over every inch of his body at the sensation.

Louis leans forward to press a soft kiss against his forehead and then his nose and then his puffy pink lips.  “Brace yourself,” he says, a chuckle in his throat.  “I’m letting Gracie in.”

Harry nods, pressing another half-kiss, half-smile to Louis’ lips before he stands and walks to the door.  He has barely opened it before Gracie barrels in, leaping onto the bed excitedly, her tail wagging as she overpowers the beautiful, sleepy man Louis gets to call his.

Louis watches with fondness, walking over to the bed, speaking in a soothing tone to get her attention and settle her down.  She eventually calms down and makes herself comfortable at the foot of the bed, groaning quietly as Harry disturbs her by sliding his feet under her body, the duvet in between them.  Louis settles beside him, resting his head on the fresh pillow Harry grabbed while he was in the loo, their noses nearly touching as they share each other’s space.  He tangles his legs with Harry’s and lays a hand against his smooth chest.

Gracie starts snoring almost immediately, having worn herself out begging for affection.  Louis can’t close his eyes just yet, though.  Harry keeps his open, too, and they just look at each other.  For how long, Louis doesn’t know.  He doesn’t care.  He counts Harry’s eyelashes and wonders what shade of pink his lips are.  They must look insane, lying here exhausted, smiling at nothing but each other’s own smiles.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Harry asks quietly, his voice nearly inaudible over the click of the ceiling fan overhead.

“No matter how hard I try, how long I sit and think of ways to say it…” Louis whispers, hesitating, still trying to find the perfect words even now, “I can’t explain the feeling of you.”

"Felt pretty amazing, if you ask me,” Harry says with a self-satisfied smile.

Louis slaps his chest gently, giggling into his neck. "That's not what I meant, you perv."

Harry chuckles and rolls Louis onto his back, holding him still with hands on his cheeks, kissing him sweetly.  Louis could never possibly grow tired of this.  Not in a million years.  Not in ten thousand lifetimes.  Never.  Forever.  Always.

"I know what you mean,” Harry says, brightening the room with the love in his eyes and the joy radiating from his smile.  “I can feel your heart inside of mine.”


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm actually the worst. Please don't be too upset about the longer waits, it'll probably be like this (five or so days) for each update until it's finished. We've only about six chapters left, I think! This is short because I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer, so I split up the chapter. So it's more like chapter 66 (wow really??) part one. Hope you don't mind!
> 
> Thanks for reading and for all of your wonderful kudos and comments and support! Enjoy! <3

The thought comes to Louis while he is watching his students colour quietly.  Hands freshly washed, he moves to place his watch back on his wrist when its shiny back catches his eye.  His smile is automatic every time he reads the words transcribed on the smooth surface.  _Bad bitch_.

Memories from that first birthday he spent with Harry again after so long apart swirl in his mind until he realizes with a jolt that Harry did not get the same gift.  Not a watch, and definitely not one that labels him as a “bad bitch” because he’s absolutely not a bad bitch.  He’s too good.  A good bitch?  Not a watch, but the gift of being together on his birthday.

Louis’ heart falls, remembering that time with perfect clarity and aching at the thought of his own foolishness.  He’ll just have to make up for that.  A smile blooms on his face, his heart growing lighter and rising in his chest once again at his new plan.

He rings Niall first, as he needs the most time to prepare being in London, and argues until his friend agrees to get to Holmes Chapel as soon as possible and definitely within the next six hours.  He speaks with Anne, begging for her help, which she happily offers.  Liam and Zayn are next, and Louis can’t even finish explaining before they start shouting excitedly on the other side of the phone about letting Ed know and what they will bring.  He calls his mum, her calm, soothing voice against his ear a welcome one after his last conversation, asking all the right questions, taking care of everything, like always.

He's got no other choice but to trust them to help him make this a magical night for his boy.  His sweet, gorgeous boy who deserves the best belated birthday party the world has ever seen.  His perfect boy who Louis will surprise at the café in a mere couple of hours, showered and wearing Harry’s favorite cologne, carrying a suit for him, as well, and the lotion that leaves his face smelling of roses.  The love of Louis’ life who will definitely make his dopey surprised face several times tonight just so Louis can kiss it away.  His Harry.

{~~~}

“Hi,” Harry says quietly, standing from where he was crouched behind the counter.  The counter that is still covered in stickers, glitter stubbornly hanging around even after so many years.  Louis smiles at the memory, and Harry follows his gaze knowingly.  “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Louis chuckles as he walks toward the counter, laying Harry’s suit on a clean table and spinning around for Harry to see him properly.  “Oh, this old thing?”

Harry walks around the counter before Louis makes it to him, nothing separating them when Harry takes him into his arms, hugging him tightly as if he hasn’t seen him in weeks.  “You look beautiful.”  He plants a warm, wet kiss on Louis’ lips, lingering even when kissing is made impossible by wide smiles pressed against one another.  “What’s the occasion?”

Louis pulls away just enough to look into his eyes.  He runs his fingers along the nape of Harry’s neck comfortingly, silently rejoicing at the shiver that runs up his spine at his light touch.  He takes a breath.  “Happy birthday, Haz.”

Harry looks at him exactly how he knew he would, like a little lost puppy.  “Um…my birthday was like…eight months ago?”

Louis takes his hand and leads him to a chair that has not yet been cleaned and put on its table, pushing him gently so that he lands with a quiet huff and straddling him slowly.  “I was acting a bit stupid on your actual birthday, though, wasn’t I?  And we never celebrated your birth.  An event for which I am extremely thankful,” he says, lowering himself to suck a pale bruise on Harry’s neck, one which he fully intends to improve upon later.

Harry moans quietly and raises his hands to settle on the small of Louis’ back.  “Is that so?”

“Mhmmm,” Louis hums, moving back to his mouth in sudden desperation, as if it holds all the oxygen in the room.

“And what exactly do you have planned?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out, my love.”  He kisses him once more, swiftly, before reaching down to slap the side of his bum.  “Now go wash your face and put on your suit.  I brought your lotion, too.”

Harry giggles brightly, taking Louis with him as he stands abruptly, kissing him in an act of sweet defiance.

Louis laughs with him, demanding to be put down.  “We’re going to be late, petal,” he whispers, tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear.

Harry’s eyes are shining in the dull light spilling in through the windows and into the dark shop.  “Be right back.”  And then he’s gone.

And Louis has to take a moment to focus on his breathing because he knows when he comes back, he’ll somehow look even more breathtaking than he did before, a clean, crisp suit replacing an old t-shirt with _Petrichor_ written on the front in swirly lettering and raspberry jam smeared across his chest, the powdered sugar dusting his cheek carefully washed away, the smell of sweat and vanilla taken by the scent of his cologne Louis sprayed on his suit before leaving their flat with a goofy smile and a racing heart.

{~~~}

The walk to _Luna_ is quiet, the cool evening air dancing over their cheeks and playing with Harry’s curls.  Louis slips his palm into Harry’s hand, their fingers lacing together.  He shares the highlights of his day with the kids.  Harry tells him with calm excitement of the new pastry he finally perfected this morning.

The small garden outside the restaurant comes into view, flowers illuminated by string lights, their sweetness wafting through the air, bringing smiles to their faces.  Inside, the hostess takes their jackets and leads them to their table, the one Louis requested, against the wall of windows overlooking the garden.  Harry sighs contentedly, tired but happy.  Definitely surprised.

When their server approaches their table, Louis orders a bottle of red wine and two servings of garlic bread, much to Harry’s delight judging by his wide smile and the crinkles by his eyes.

Louis’ leg bounces quickly under the table, his fingers fidgeting with the cloth napkin set over his plate, nerves rattling his bones as he runs through tonight’s events in his head.  His mum has a key to their flat and she and Anne and Gemma are taking care of the food.  The boys are happily responsible for the drinks and the music and anything else they might think of.  It’s going to be fine.

There’s just one final detail that hasn’t left Louis’ attention since he first concocted this plan.  And this he has to handle all on his own.

“Lou?”

Louis startles, nearly knocking over the glass of wine he hadn’t noticed being poured directly in front of his face.  “Sorry!  “Um…sorry, what were you saying?  Was just thinking.  About…something at work.”

_Smooth._

A small smile creeps onto Harry’s lips, warming up the entire room.  “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, Haz.  I wanted to.  You deserve it.”

“You make me so fucking happy, you know that?”

Louis nods, his cheeks aching with joy.  “I love you, too.”

Harry reaches across the table and envelops Louis’ hands in his bigger ones, bringing them higher to press reverent kisses to each of his knuckles.  “Always.”

And that is all it takes for Louis to know, without a shadow of a doubt, the most sure he’s ever been of anything, no way he’s turning back now.  Tonight is going to be the night Harry tells people about with teary eyes and rosy cheeks for the rest of his life.  Tonight is going to be part of their story.

And when they go to sleep tonight, pressed against one another in their bed, the sheets damp with their lovemaking, that little black box will no longer be hidden in Louis’ drawer.  It will be open and empty, the ring inside it resting on Harry’s finger dancing on Louis’ chest as he dreams.  And Louis thinks, he hopes, that those dreams include him.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies are probably getting pretty annoying, but I really am so so sorry for making you wait so long. Thank you, as always, for being patient with me and for your continued support. Seriously, getting comments and kudos from you guys is the only thing that keeps me going some days, so thank you!!!! More notes after the chapter! :)

“Surprise!”

Harry jumps back from the door as the collective voice of their friends and family sounds through their decorated flat.  “What the—Louis!” he giggles brightly, looking around in awe.  “How did you do this?”

“He had help,” Niall chimes in, rushing in for a hug and a few pats on the back.

“A _lot_ of help,” Jay says from across the room, Anne winking beside her.

“Louis barely lifted a finger, if we’re being honest,” Liam teases, lifting his bottle in cheers.

Gemma walks toward them, Doris on her hip, and Louis glances toward his own eldest sister to see Ernie draped over her shoulder.  “Happy birthday, Haz,” Gemma coos, placing soft kisses on both of their cheeks.

Harry is shining, his smile lighting up the room.  His arm tightens around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer.  Louis turns to face him and brings his hands to Harry’s cheeks.  “I love you,” he whispers with a kiss.

“Thank you,” he sighs, and Louis swears his eyes are just a little red.  “This is amazing, Lou.  You’re amazing.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Louis winks.  “Now go enjoy your party.  You only turn twenty-two so many times.”

Harry lets him go after another kiss far too passionate for their audience and waltzes over to Anne and Robin, enveloping them both in a warm embrace, their wide smiles enough to power Louis’ happiness forever.

Louis catches his mum’s attention, sending her silent thanks for her help.  For everything.  She smiles warmly, nodding subtly before turning back to finish her conversation with Zayn.  They must have just met.  She looks absolutely smitten.

The smirk on Louis’ face evolves into a secret smile as he makes his way across the crowded kitchen and through the living room to the hallway.  He glances behind him to make sure Harry is properly distracted before slipping into their bedroom.

It’s quiet and cool.  This room feels more like home than any other place on Earth.  His eyes linger on the crumpled duvet where he can picture Harry sprawled out beneath him as he was last night, tangled up in the sheets as he was this morning when Louis woke him with gentle kisses.

He straightens out their pillows and smooths the duvet before sitting on the edge of the bed and running his palm over the surface of his bedside table.  He opens the drawer slowly and slides his hand inside until it bumps into a small box lined with velvet.

He never tried to hide it that well.  Harry would never look.  And Louis wouldn’t mind if he found it anyway.

He closes the drawer and takes a deep breath, flipping the top of the box open to look at the ring inside for the millionth time since he bought it.  He is really going to do this.  He is going to ask Harry to marry him.  Harry is going to say yes.  They are going to get married.  They’ll have a wedding and a marriage.  They’ll have babies.  They’ll grow old together.  They’ll be together.  Be a family.

Memories of their lives, their life together, flash through Louis’ mind as he looks at the white gold band.  Moving to Holmes Chapel, feeling scared and lonely until he met the curly boy down the street.  And then never feeling that way again.  Going to school and having everyone refer to them as a unit, _Louis and Harry_ , _Harry and Louis_ , a package deal.  Learning to love Christmas if only because it became the perfect excuse to cuddle a cute boy with dimples and eyes the color of the tree in the living room.  Laughing their way to tired lungs as they dusted Madeleine’s new sweet creations with sugar each week, Louis usually getting more on himself than the pastries, Harry flinging more at him just so he could kiss the sweetness from his lips.  Falling in love so effortlessly, it was like breathing.

Now when Louis remembers the mistakes, the pain, he thinks of what it led to.  This.  Love found again.  A proposal.  A life together.  Forever.  It still hurts, it may always.  But he can’t imagine a more soothing balm than Harry’s arms.  Bad nights aren’t so bad when fragranced by Harry’s minty breath against his lips, when laid out in time according to sounds of pleasure escaping his mouth to be followed by whispered promises.

The cool air of the room prickles at the tears in his eyes, the tracks staining his cheeks, and he can’t help but smile as he wipes his palm across his face, destroying the evidence of his emotion.  A few deep breaths and a little frantic laughter, and he leaves the room, heart racing and a lump in his throat in the form of the words he can’t fucking wait to say.  _Marry me, Harry.  Please marry me._

“Tommo!  Hey, mate!” Liam shouts as Louis reenters the kitchen, slapping him once roughly on the back.

Louis jumps, caught off guard, his every cell searching for Harry and not caring about anything else at all.  “Hey, man.  Uh…you seen Harry?”

“He’s outside with your mum,” Zayn chimes in, sliding his arm around Liam’s waist the second he is near enough.  “She’s absolutely lovely, Lou.”

Louis smiles, “She really is.  I’ll be right back, lads.”

Liam and Zayn give him casual nods, and why shouldn’t they?  They have no idea what is about to happen.  They have no clue that Louis is about to change everything.

He tries to soften his smile, bordering on manic now, and opens the front door, slowly and quietly in an effort to calm his nerves.  That incredible fondness that he’ll never get used to grips his heart at the sight of his mother, his biggest fan and best friend, captured in an intimate conversation with the love of his life.  They’ll be family soon.  They always have been, but Louis would quite like to make that official.

He takes a few steps forward, staying as hidden as possible behind the brush between them.  And he hears his mum ask Harry a question he couldn’t have ever prepared for.

“Do you want to marry him?” she asks softly.

The silence following her question is too long, the deafening volume of the words Harry isn’t saying ringing in Louis’ ears.

“I don’t know, Jay,” he finally says.

Bile rises in Louis’ throat and his skin breaks out in a cold sweat.  He can’t move, feels frozen, stuck to the ground, unable to run away.  _This isn’t happening.  This can’t be happening.  No, no, no, no, no._

Louis contemplates for one moment on how he should be crying, but there are too many other things happening, inside of him and all around him.  He just needs to get out of here as quickly as possible.  He needs to get away.  _Leave now!_ his brain screams, as if that isn’t exactly what he is trying to do.  And then, _he lied to you.  He doesn’t love you anymore.  He’s lying to you.  Of course he doesn’t want to marry you.  You’ve been so caught up in your own happiness that you…what?...forgot?!  You don’t deserve him, and he finally realized that._

He spins on his heals as quietly as he can manage, trying to make it to the front door without drawing their attention.  He turns the knob and tumbles through doorway, going to his knees immediately and vomiting out everything he can drag up from inside his gut, bleeding out onto the kitchen floor in front of everyone he thought they both loved.

Niall runs toward him in an obvious panic, and when Louis looks up at him, he’s held in place by the worried eyes of everyone in the room.  Niall leads him to the loo, closing both of them inside and away from any intruders.

“Louis, what happened?”

Louis shakes his head violently and lets more of himself out into the sink before Niall can put up a well-meaning argument.  He washes his sick from the sink and rests his forehead against the cold surface of the counter, sobs wracking his chest as Niall rubs a soothing hand over his back.

“Lou?” Niall prods cautiously.

“What, Niall?” he whimpers pathetically.

“Did you propose to Harry?”

The box is still clasped in his shaking hand.  Louis whips his head up to stare daggers at his friend.  “No, I didn’t propose to Harry,” he sneers unfairly.  This isn’t Niall’s fault.  “I didn’t get the fucking chance, did I?  Because I found out, _rather conveniently_ , that Harry doesn’t love me literal seconds before I was going to ask.  So, _no_ , I did not ask Harry to marry me.  I think that would be quite idiotic considering this new development, don’t you?

Niall opens his mouth to respond, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Louis doesn’t allow it.  He shoves past him and hurries through the flat, pushing past his mum and Harry as they enter.  Gracie runs through the door when Louis opens it, so he grabs her leash and chases after her.

Less than a minute into their escape, he stops to sit down, his knees pulled up under his chin as he cries quietly, not enough energy left in his body to even sob properly.  Gracie cozies up to him, attempting to cuddle, to give him some comfort.  Louis scratches behind her ear lightly, exhaustion keeping him tied to the hard ground.

But they never should have stopped at all.  Because Harry’s voice suddenly sounds through the chilly air, its usual warmth replaced with ice-cold panic to match the freezing droplets of rain just starting to collide with Louis’ skin.

Louis can’t think of a better soundtrack to his life.  The sound of Harry chasing after him, rain hitting the ground hard and unforgiving.  The rhythm of his heart beating wildly in his chest with fear and pain and confusion.

And as the sound of Harry’s feet colliding with the wet stones grows louder, closer, one thought drowns out everything else.  His mum was right.  He is a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE DON'T HATE ME, I PROMISE I HAVE PLAN. THEY ARE GOING TO BE OKAY, AND YOU WILL BE HAPPY. <3


	56. Chapter 56

“Louis?”

Louis can hear Harry speaking his name.  He felt his presence drawing nearer with every step.  Gracie bounded toward him minutes ago, the leash pulling her back even now as she struggles to meet him.  Everything is muted by the sound of the rain, heavier every second, the feel of the cold water soaking him to the bone as he sits motionless on the wet ground.  The small box in his pocket burning a hole into his skin, through his heart.  He can’t figure out why he isn’t moving.  It’s too chaotic for anything but paralyzing fear.

“Babe, are you okay?” Harry asks, obviously trying to mask the panic in his voice.  But Louis hears it, and it only brings to the surface more anger.  More disbelief that this could be happening.  “Why are you just sitting here in the rain?  What’s going on?”

Gracie finally manages to tear away from him, the leash ripped out of his frozen hand.  He does not move until Harry moves to touch him.  That, apparently, is enough to force him into action.  He flinches away from his outstretched hand, rising to his feet and walking backward as he watches the light die in Harry’s eyes.

“Louis, what’s wrong?  I thought you…Lou, it can’t hurt you.  I thought you weren’t scared anymore.”

“I’m not,” Louis chokes out, can’t honestly believe words are coming out of his mouth right now with how much it all is.  He can’t fucking breathe, but evidently speech no longer requires oxygen.

“But—”

“I’m not scared of the rain, Harry,” he spits venomously.  And he knows suddenly that that is true.  The rain is pouring down, the trees lining the street dancing in the howling wind.  And he isn’t afraid.  Not of getting wet.  Not of getting struck by lightning.  Storms were once a reminder of all that he wasn’t.  Thunder was the soundtrack to his misery, to his guilt and shame and regret.  But he isn’t sad.  He isn’t scared.  He’s furious.  He’s humiliated.

“Did you ever want it back?”

The longer Harry looks at him like a confused dopey-eyed deer, the angrier Louis feels.  “Did I want what back?”

“Everything.  The past.  Me.  Because I’ve been pretty blind, not thinking of anything but my own—”

“Louis, what are you talking about?”

“I came back here and just walked up to you and…I trusted you.  If you didn’t want this…why lie about it, Harry?  I tried to be your friend.”

Harry moves closer and tries to reach a hand out to Louis’ hanging limply by his side.  Louis moves back again, swatting at him frantically.  “Don’t touch me.”

Harry recoils violently, pain and fear flashing in his dark eyes.  “What the fuck, Louis?  Why are you doing this?”

“Why am _I_ doing this?!  Are you fucking kidding me?!  You’re the one who…you…I can’t fucking believe this,” he gasps, breathable air a rarity.  “You didn’t want it back.  You never did.  And I just realized it because apparently I’m an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

“What made you think—”

“Everything is different, Harry!  I was so bloody stupid to think it could be the same.  To think I could just waltz back to Holmes Chapel and go back in time.  You never wanted it back.”  He tastes salt on his lips, tears mixed with rain drops running down his chilled skin, seeping into him.

“I didn’t want it back!” Harry exclaims, shocking both Louis and himself, judging by the look of surprise on his face.  “Not everything.  I just wanted you.”

“Everything is too different.  I don’t fit anymore.”

“Louis, please don’t do this,” Harry says, his voice wracked with tension.

“You even had to rename the café!  What the hell kind of name is _Petrichor_ anyway?  Why did you change it, Harry?  Was it so fucking hard to keep _anything_ the way it was when I was here?”

“I changed the name to have something that felt like mine!” Harry explodes.  “To have something I knew wouldn’t leave.  I named it that because my whole life is like petrichor!  The feeling of everything after the storm!  Over and over and over again.  Because you can’t decide what you want, so I’m constantly left running behind you, trying to catch you, until I lose my breath and have to give up.  I’m not doing it anymore, Louis!”

Louis stumbles as he takes another step back, wincing at the harshness of Harry’s words, at the pained desperation and anger distorting his features, turning his eyes so dark they don’t shine at all anymore.  He just wants him to stop yelling, to stop for just one second so he can catch his breath.  He doesn’t.

“I know what I want, and it’s you!  It always has been!  Since I was ten fucking years old and you showed up out of the blue and saved me and ruined me the moment I met you.  You still do every day.  All I’ve ever wanted was to be the same for you, but you keep leaving, Louis!  Every time we get close enough for me to believe it could be real, you leave!”

“Harry—”

He can’t get anything else out, but it is not because Harry interrupts him.  Instead, he quiets for a moment to suck in enough oxygen for whatever he’s going to say next, and Louis has time to say something, but he could not push the words past the rock in his throat even if he could think of them.  Harry’s eyes widen in a way that would be comical if this were any other situation, like he can’t believe Louis isn’t saying anything.

“I’m in love with you, and I’ve been in love with you for twelve years.  I was in love with you when I was too young to even know what it means to need someone this much, and there was a time when I thought that was enough.  That _I_ was enough.  You’re always having these catastrophic breakdowns because you’ve somehow convinced yourself that I don’t love you and that you aren’t enough for me, and I would happily give you all the time in the world to realize that that isn’t true.  But you know what, Lou?  In order for me to be able to do that, you have to stay.  For once in your fucking life, you have to _stay_.”

Harry stops again, seemingly startled at his own longwinded outburst.  He’s just standing there in front of Louis, waiting for a response.  And Louis is scared.  He’s scared of losing him.  He’s scared that he’s right, and he’s even more scared that Harry is right.

“Don’t you _dare_ blame me for everything, Harry,” he says much more quietly than either of them were expecting.  “Don’t you fucking dare tell me you’ve never done anything wrong.  You can’t do that anymore.  Not when I heard what you had to say to my mother.  I heard you both, loud and clear, _darling_.”

A wave of nausea passes over him as he watches Harry blanch at the ice in his voice when he tacks on that word usually whispered lovingly.  He’s as angry and as hurt and as vengeful as he’s ever been in his life in this moment, but he still can’t stand the sight of Harry in pain.  And he hates himself for being the reason for it.

He steadies himself once more before Louis’ eyes, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, more controlled than before.  It’s terrifying.  “Your mother…” he starts, “she asked…no.”  He shakes his head.  “I don’t know what you think you heard, but that’s so beyond the point.  I tell you every single day how much I love you.  This is _not_ my fault.  You left me here like I meant nothing to you, and now you’re doing it again.  I have never left.  I have _never_ left you.”

“You’ve never left me because I always leave before you have the chance, Harry!”  Louis wipes frantically at the tears falling from his eyes, burning and obstructing his vision.  “Fuck!” he screams, the anger and fear overwhelming.  “How can you not see that?!”

Harry moves forward like he’s going to answer, and no.  Louis is not done.  “I tell you I love you, too!” he shouts, only getting louder when Harry takes a step back.  “How dare you say that I don’t love you?  That I don’t wake up every morning and have to convince myself all over again that you love me and that this is real?  That I don’t have to be scared anymore?  That I don’t spend every bit of energy I have making sure you know I love you and that I’m sorry?  I will never stop being sorry.  I will never forgive myself for hurting you.  But it’s not my fault this time!”

Hot tears are running down his cheeks, slipping onto his neck and disappearing behind the hem of his soaked jumper.  “I can’t believe you, Haz,” he says quietly, not enough air left in his lungs to do more than whisper.

Harry seems to have worn himself out, as well, standing quietly, holding Gracie’s leash as she whines impatiently.  “You need to ask your mum about what you _think_ you heard.”

“I know what I heard, Harry.  You’re just trying to get out of it.  I don’t know why.  Maybe you just aren’t quite ready to stop using me yet.  Maybe you aren’t ready for it to be obvious who broke us.  As long as we keep doing this, you can still blame me for everything.  I don’t know.  But don’t worry about it, okay?  We’re done.”

Harry takes in a visible breath and takes one step toward him, his arms hanging limply at his sides where they would normally be reaching toward Louis, pulling him closer, holding him tightly, keeping him safe.  Louis aches with the need to feel those strong arms wrapped around him, squeezing him out, holding him together where he feels like he might actually be breaking apart.  But he doesn’t reach out, he stays where he is.  His fingertips flutter as if it’s taking him some amount of strength to stay away.  Louis’ attention is ripped from his fingers, those perfect fingers that know his body better than he does, when Harry starts talking, cementing the damage done.

“All I have ever wanted was to be with you, to fall asleep in your arms every night and wake up with you every morning for the rest of my life.  You’re all I need.  Even the worst pain is bearable when I have you.  But I honestly don’t know if you feel that way about me, Lou.  I don’t know if I’m enough for you.  But I do know that I’m not going to let you keep doing this to me until we’re old and grey, so make up your fucking mind and stop breaking my heart.”

And before Louis can even think to respond, to scream in fury or cry in desperation, before he can muster up the energy to ball his hand into a fist and send it careening in the direction of Harry’s face, before he can feel his legs enough to tell them to run after him, to crash into him, to kiss him until the rain stops or make love to him as it pours, Harry is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things can't always stay perfect, but don't lose faith! After all, how boring would life be if nothing ever hurt?
> 
> Wanted to get this part to you guys sooner rather than later, but please be patient with me for the next one as I have big family plans this weekend! Thanks as always for your love and support. You've no idea how much it means to me. <3


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four more chapters! Hang in there! It'll be okay!  
> All my love and thanks, as always. You're all too good to me. <3

Louis stinks.  Their bed stinks.  The flat reeks of sweat and old pizza that he can’t manage to throw out because Harry once touched the box, of sadness and desperation and a complete lack of understanding of how any of this happened.

He knows he should shower, wipe the crust from his eyes that has accumulated over a week of tears and sleeping during the work day.  But he knows he’ll do that thing that Harry hates.  The thing that hurts.  The thing Louis craves.  But he can’t do that to Harry, even if he isn’t here to see it.  Maybe he knows Harry just isn’t here to stop it.

He’s going to get fired if he misses another week, but right now, he doesn’t really care.  What’s the point of going to work if he doesn’t have Harry to come home to?  If he doesn’t have a beautiful, kind, generous boy to ring him during lunch to tell him horrible jokes?

Harry’s pillow doesn’t smell like him anymore.  The scent of his shampoo and his skin warm and sticky from sleep is gone.  Half of his jumpers are missing from the closet, and Louis will run out of ones to sleep in much too soon.  A sob wracks his throat as it has every morning he has woken alone since that night.  Without a warm body pressed against his chest and a lazy, satisfied beast draped over their tangled legs to the point of discomfort.

He shouldn’t be able to move this freely.  His limbs should find obstacles pressed into the sheets.  They don’t, but he pulls back into himself anyway, staying in his allotted space.  Maybe if he leaves room…just maybe.

 _Please come home_ , he thinks, whispers into his pillow damp with sweat from yet another nightmare, the mantra repeated quietly past a sore throat until his tears stop falling and exhaustion wins again.

_{~~~}_

_The sun is shining through the gaps in the leaves above their heads, dotting Harry’s skin with light where he lay in Louis’ lap.  Louis brushes his curls away from his face, sweeping them behind his ears, letting his fingertips tickle the sides of his face and the sensitive skin behind his ears._

_He feels confused, like he’s in the wrong place.  He’s relaxed against a huge tree that looks familiar but feels foreign, his bare back pressed against its smooth bark.  Harry slips into unconsciousness.  Louis can feel it when it happens, like a little of Harry’s calm seeps into him as he starts snoring quietly._

_He’s not anxious, exactly, just…misplaced.  He takes his eyes off of the sleeping boy in his arms to look around him, searching for the bench he knows is not here.  He’s in the wrong place.  All he sees is heatwaves lifting off of the still surface of the pond in smoky tendrils.  The water has settled since Harry left it, his waves hushed by the goddess hiding below them.  Louis is beginning to believe she is as real as Harry insists she is._

_Nothing is happening.  There is no screaming boy to cry over, no pain to run from, and Louis feels lost.  His skin is tingling and his breathing is picking up.  He feels a little faint.  This is crazy.  Is he really getting nervous over having nothing to be nervous about?  It just feels wrong._

_Hot tears roll down his cheeks and splatter onto Harry’s face.  The boy stirs but does not wake, and Louis’ tears fall harder and faster, slipping under Harry’s closed eyelids and into his nose, sliding past his chapped lips and filling up his mouth.  Harry is drowning right in front of his eyes as Louis holds him, but he can’t save him.  The more he tries to wake him, to help him stop breathing in saltwater rather than oxygen, the harder he cries.  Harry is so heavy, Louis can’t move him off of his legs, his muscles going numb under his boy’s weight._

_Suddenly Harry’s eyes open, and this is what Louis has been expecting since he found himself in this strange, familiar place.  He starts screaming.  Begging.  Pleading for Louis to save him, even though Louis is the one hurting him, his tears having suddenly morphed into the pond that sat still before him only moments earlier._

_Without warning, the water begins to swirl around Harry’s form as he gasps for air, Louis watching helplessly from the grassy shore.  A woman with eyes red with fire rises from the waves, hair black as the night tangled and dripping down her smooth, bare skin.  She looks ghostly, her bony structure wrapped in thin, translucent skin, her lips pulled up in an unkind smile._

_Louis knows her.  He knows who she must be.  But this is not the Syreni he has so often imagined when Harry spins tales of her in the early morning hours, trying to lure Louis into more peaceful dreams.  Their Syreni is kind and powerful and beautiful.  She loves them.  She does not want to harm them._

_She reaches toward Harry, and his flailing stops as she takes him into her arms and presses him against her body.  Her grotesque, blue mouth opens to reveal teeth sharp enough to kill, and Louis’ rapidly beating heart stops altogether.  Everything about this is wrong._

_Why weren’t they in the park?  The pond is safe.  It always has been.  And now he’s ruined that, as well.  He let Harry take him here, to this paradise.  A magical place, destroyed by his love that will never be enough to do anything but cause Harry pain._

_The goddess watches him intently as he stands unmoving mere metres away, her eyes haunting, embers burning so brightly, she must surely be able to throw fire.  She doesn’t harm him.  Not physically.  But he was never really afraid of that.  Her body begins to sink, disappearing into the pond she has been hiding beneath all of these years.  She takes Harry with her, his head against her pale, wet shoulder, his body frighteningly still._

_As his head dips under the water, Louis’ heartbeat returns, air rushing out of his lungs as he runs into the water, feverishly trying to get to his boy, no matter the cost.  But it’s too late.  After coldly humming the words usually whispered through the leaves in a park being ripped apart by a storm, she descends into the water, the waves ceasing immediately, the water calming as if by a snap of her long, scaly fingers._

He is not yours.  He cannot be yours.  _Her lips had molded around the cruel words as she held Harry where Louis could not touch him._

_There is no trace of her existence.  No signs of Harry’s presence.  Both of them swallowed whole by the enchanted waters.  Louis wishes they’d take him, too._

_{~~~}_

He wakes again in the late afternoon, not with a jolt, but with a sigh.  A need to breathe deeply and find himself in a familiar place.  As he glances around the room, dulled by the absence of a curly-headed boy, the nausea returns.  He stumbles out of bed and runs to the loo, the sickness rising in his throat uncontrollably.

Before he finishes the argument in his head over whether he really wants to turn the shower knob and get in the fucking shower for the first time in a week, his phone rings.  He nearly gives himself a concussion racing back to the bedroom, every cell in his body hoping, aching, begging for Harry’s name to be lighting up the screen.

He’s glad he’s already thrown up when he sees it is not Harry, the nausea coming back in full force but with nothing in his stomach to work with.

He thumbs across the screen shakily, his head still reeling from all the excitement.  The call connects and he presses the phone against his ear, no words coming out of his mouth.

“Lou?  Louis, you there, mate?”

Louis nods, realizing a second later that Niall cannot see him.  “Yeah,” his voice crackles unpleasantly.

“Fuck, you sound bloody awful.”

“Thanks,” he says, clearing his throat and rolling his eyes.

“Sorry, just…Liam called.  He told me what’s going on.  Like that Harry hasn’t been home since the party.  You want to tell me what happened?”

“You know what happened.”

“I mean…sort of.  You were freaking out pretty bad that night.  I don’t really have a clear picture.  And apparently Harry won’t talk to anyone but his mum.  We’re kind of in the dark here, mate.  Which, y’know if you don’t want to share, that’s fine.  But we care about the both of you.  I’m worried about you, Lou.  Maybe I could help.”

Louis takes a deep breath and reminds himself that Niall is his friend.  He can trust him.  No matter how much he may not want to discuss this, to think about it any more than he already is, if he’s going to talk to anyone, it should be Niall.

“Basically, I overheard Harry telling me mum he doesn’t want to marry me.  And I confronted him and we got into a huge fight.”

Niall is quiet for some time until he finally says, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Don’t you think I bloody know that, Niall?  But that’s what happened.”

“But Louis—”

“No.  I’m not laying all of this on you so you can try to make me feel better.  It doesn’t make sense.  That’s that.  I’ve ruined my life.  You don’t have to pretend that it’s possible to fix it.”

“Louis, for fuck’s sake.  Listen to me.  You misunderstood something.  That’s the only possible explanation.”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“If you hang up on me, I’m going to drive to your flat and force you to listen to me anyway.  This is easier.  So just shut up and listen.”

“Fine,” Louis huffs.

“Have you talked to your mum?”

“No.”

“Uh… _why not_?”

“Because I’m angry, Niall!  I’m fucking heartbroken!  I want to die, and my mum has yet to even call me.  She didn’t think she needed to tell me that Harry told her he doesn’t want to be with me.  She didn’t, I don’t know, find it necessary to tell me that the love of my life told her pointblank that he doesn’t love me.  So I’m a little pissed off!”

“Harry would never say that.”

“What?”

“Harry does love you.”

“Well, my mother has evidence to the contrary and she apparently wasn’t up to sharing that little piece of information with me.”

“Oh my God, Louis, grow up.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I said grow the fuck up!  I know you’re hurting right now, and I know that you struggle sometimes with things I could never even imagine, but I know you know, somewhere in that twisted brain of yours, that Harry loves you.”

Louis remains silent, his heart beating more rapidly than before.  The thing is, Niall is right.  He still does believe, despite everything, despite hearing Harry’s hesitant, pained response to his mum’s question, that Harry loves him.  He’s had plenty of time over the past week to ruminate over all of the kisses, all of the laughter, all of the sweet words whispered in through tears both in comfort and in ecstasy they have ever shared, and it never adds up to an absence of love.  Niall is right.  It doesn’t make sense.

“But why would he say that?” he whispers.

“Maybe he didn’t.”

“I heard him say it, Niall.”

“But you could just have one piece of the puzzle, yeah?  Will you please, _please_ , for me, go talk to your mum?  Please?”

His mind feels a little chaotic, the room spinning around him as he contemplates going to see his mum.  He needs to know what he didn’t hear.  Harry said that himself.  Something he’d forgotten until now, wrapped up in every other word Harry had uttered that night, raindrops and shimmering tears running over his cheeks.

A shiver runs through his bloodstream, and he turns toward the door.  He walks across the hall and reaches his hand inside the shower, turning both knobs.  He looks into the mirror and finds a stranger.  He’s got to at least try.  He has to fix it.  For both of them.

“Yeah,” he finally responds, Niall waiting patiently on the other side of the line.  “I’ve gotta go.”


	58. Chapter 58

Louis knocks on the door, the wood old and cracked, strong and familiar under his knuckles.  It’s a strange act.  This is his home.  He’s never knocked before.

The door opens slowly, and Louis is confused until he looks down to find a tiny little boy with shiny curls gazing up with a smile on his face and arms outstretched toward his brother.

“Well, hey, Ernie!” Louis coos, bending down to pick him up.  “What are you doing answering the door, little man?”

“I’m right behind him, don’t worry,” Fizzy answers, moving in for a hug as Louis holds Ernest to his chest.  “Why’d you knock, you weirdo?”

A quiet chuckle rises from Louis’ throat and he shrugs.  “Dunno.  Where’s mum?”

“Should be back in a mo.  Brought Dan a spot of supper since he has to work late tonight.”

Louis rounds up his siblings, pressing sweet kisses to their heads and nearly getting knocked over when they rush at him for cuddles.  They’ve just begun to play a board game when his mum walks through the front door.  Her face lights up upon noticing him sprawled on the carpet with his youngest siblings crawling over him as if he were a jungle gym, and Louis’ heart twists with guilt.  As if she would ever hurt him.

“Hey, mum,” he says, plastering on a nervous smile.

“Hi, darling.”  She rests her bag on the kitchen counter and walks to the living room, opening her arms wide when Louis untangles himself from the monkeys climbing on his back.  She’s always given the best hugs, tight and warm and like she’d let it go on forever if that’s what Louis needed.  “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Louis breathes in the scent of her perfume, a little overshadowed by the smell of Holmes Chapel in autumn.  Snickerdoodles and warm tea and fallen leaves.  She smells like home.

“Need to talk.  ‘M sorry I haven’t…something happened.  I’m sorry I’ve been gone.”

Jay pulls away from him slowly, peering up at him with worried eyes.  “Are you alright?”

Louis nods once and realizes how untrue that is.  He shifts his motions, shaking his head side to side instead.  “Not really.”

Jay’s lips purse together for just a moment, her eyebrows pinching.  “Just give me a moment to check on the girls, okay?  Make sure they don’t need a break from watching the babies.”

Louis nods, “Come to my room when you’ve got a minute.  I’m going to go lie down for a bit if that’s alright.”

“Of course.  Be right up,” she responds, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before scooping her youngest daughter into her arms.

Only minutes later, a soft tapping on his closed door distracts him from the fading light dancing along the familiar wall across the room.  He’s stared at that wall so many times before, a sweet boy’s tangled curls in the center of his tangled thoughts.  It’s no different now.

“Baby bear,” Jay coos, entering the room slowly.  “What’s going on, love?”

Louis tries to brace himself, to pull up all the strength left in his exhausted body, to make this as practical and painless as possible.  The tears fall anyway, and he rushes to wipe them away before his mum’s hands reach out only to make them fall faster and heavier against the worn duvet.  Instead, she waits calmly for an explanation.

Another shuddered breath in and out, and Louis pushes it out.  “What did Harry say to you when you asked him if he wanted to marry me?”

The words come out strangled, choppy and uneven with his inability to breathe, to stop bloody crying.

She gazes at him silently, confusion settling into a fine line over her brows.  “What?” she asks gently, as if she is afraid her son might just fall apart right before her eyes.

“I heard you talking outside.  The night of his birthday party.  And…and I heard you ask if he wanted to marry me.  And I heard him…not say yes.”

“Oh, love… _oh_.  Louis…”

Louis peers up at her through his damp lashes, aching for a miracle.  Pleading and begging and bargaining with every deity in existence for confirmation of his own misunderstanding.

 _Tell me I’m wrong_ , he thinks, almost says the words aloud in his desperation.

“No.”  Jay finishes her sentence, meaningless words strung together with bewilderment and pauses just long enough to stop Louis’ shallow breathing altogether.

His heartbeat begins to thud against his ribcage, the rhythm of it growing wilder with hope every second, climbing into his throat as his mum raises her hand and smooths the back of it over his wet cheek.

“No?” he whispers.

“I’m going to take a guess and say that you _only_ heard us.  Am I correct?”

Louis thinks back to that night, hearing those words spoken, Harry’s back to him.  “I saw you.  I was facing you.  Harry had his back to where I was standing.  Why?”

She blinks slowly, obviously hesitant to say whatever words are resting on her tongue.  “Before I say more…I need for you to tell me what happened between you two.”

“I…” Louis begins.  And stops.  What _did_ happen?  It seems so distant now.  Almost like a dream.  “I thought he lied to me.”

Jay nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Why would he say that if he wanted to be with me?  That was the only thought in my mind.  But when I asked him, he didn’t…he wasn’t…why was he sad?”

“So he left?  You haven’t seen him?”

Louis shakes his head as fresh tears well in his eyes.  “I keep calling.  He doesn’t want to see me.”

His mum watches him intently, and Louis can sense that she is trying to make some sort of decision.  Finally, she speaks, in a clear voice, infused with love and just a touch of exasperation.

“Harry loves you very much, sweetheart.  He didn’t say no when I asked him that.”

“Mum, I heard him.  You asked him, ‘Do you want to marry him?’ and he said—”

“And he said, ‘I don’t know, Jay,’” she interrupts.  “With a clever smile on his face and a ring in his hand as he asked for my blessing.  Like the cheeky shit he is.”

The static in Louis’ ears grows ever louder, deafening in the silence left by his mum’s words.

“What?” he chokes out in a panic, his voice scratchy and barely over a whisper.

“Well, I suppose I’ve ruined it now, but I’d rather a late proposal than none at all.”

“Harry was…are you serious?” Louis nearly screeches, his voice louder with each syllable as he scrambles to climb off of the bed.

Jay nods, the movement small, a cocky smile growing on her face.

“I am…” he starts.  And then he hears again the demand, the plea, Harry left him with.  _Stop breaking my heart._   And his own shatters for the millionth time since those words were spoken to him.  “I did it again,” he says, suddenly feeling very faint.  He sits back down on the bed, his body leaning against his mother.  “Oh my God.  I did it again.”  He feels like he might throw up.

“This is the last time either of us are going to let you get away with it,” she says gently, wrapping a slender arm around his waist.

Louis knows she’s teasing him, trying to make him smile.  But his heart is too broken for that, cracked and kaleidoscopic, all the light Harry ever brought to it seeping out in his absence.

She tries a different approach.  “Don’t give up.  He’ll answer.”

“What if he can’t forgive me this time?” he whimpers, barely holding it together as his body spasms against his mum’s warm body, jerking as his tears dry in sticky lines over his cheeks and down his neck.

“He will.”

Louis breathes out, a hard, tired exhale that brings him even closer to her, their arms around one another.  He glances up, his next question of how she could possibly be sure of that never quite reaching his tongue.  She hears it anyway, her eyes softening and her eyebrows pinching together as if she can’t believe he doesn’t know the answer.

“He’s your fool.  As much as you are his.”


	59. Chapter 59

Another week passes.  And another.  And Harry hasn’t come home.  He won’t answer Louis’ calls, won’t respond to the hundreds of texts Louis has sent in vain.  He hasn’t gone into the bakery.  A brief, frantic conversation with Liam confirmed this.  He’s not at his parents’ house, Anne only shaking her head in confusion and mild pity when he came to beg.  He’s in the wind.

But Louis knows him.  He knows him more than anyone else ever could.  And he knows where he is going to be tonight without asking a soul.

The day drags on, each ticking of the clock torturous as he waits to bid his students a pleasant weekend and run out of his classroom, trying not to knock them over in his haste.

Finally, _finally_ , he is done for the day, and he rushes through the school’s wide halls and bursts out of the front doors.  He reaches his flat startlingly fast, his mind wrapped up in his poorly constructed plan.  He doesn’t have any idea how it will be.  He doesn’t know what he’s going to say if Harry even listens to him at all.  He just knows he has to see him.  He has to try.

Harry will likely be there in about an hour, which gives Louis more than enough time to shower and make himself presentable.  Step one of apologizing for the thousandth time and begging for forgiveness and professing your undying love:  look damn good as you do so.

He finishes his routine and slips on a coat to ward off the chilly night air before rushing out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.  And he’s on his way.  Back to Harry.

The walk is too long.  The wind is too cold, turning his nose numb and his cheeks a bright shade of pink.  His heart beats too quickly, hard and unrelenting in his chest as he draws nearer to his destination.

And then he sees it.  The neon sign hanging above the door, faintly flickering.  As it always has.  It’s familiar, and it should be comforting, but now it just looks broken, the light sporadic like the beat of his heart.

And then he hears it.  The moment before he steps in front of the pub’s frosty window, the sound invades all of his senses.  He takes a step back, hoping he has not already been spotted, and leans against the wall.  Harry started early, and Louis wasn’t here.

His voice fills the pub and seeps out into the night air, raspy and smooth and beautiful.  He sounds bright.  And sad.  He sounds like moonlight.

Louis wills his heart to calm down, his hands to stop shaking.  He stays hidden, leaned against the wall for support, and tries to settle his thoughts.

Liam is on the stage, too.  Louis can hear him harmonizing behind Harry’s voice as they begin a new song.  One of them is playing a soft, haunting melody on their guitar that Louis can only vaguely place.  It’s Harry.  Liam doesn’t pick his strings like that.

As Harry starts on the second verse, Louis focuses on the words escaping Harry’s lips.  He wishes he hadn’t upon recognizing the song.  He feels the vibrations of the music through the wall, brushing against his bruised heart in staccato rhythm.

“What if everything’s just the way that it will be?  Could it be that I am meant to cause you all this grief?”

Louis takes a breath, sucking in air as slowly and steadily as he can manage.  An argument perches on his tongue and he opens his mouth to say the words before remembering in a daze that Harry isn’t actually speaking to him.  He doesn’t have any other choice but to listen to Harry’s pain through a thick plaster wall.

“My war ships are lying off the coast of your delicate heart, and my aim is steady and true as it’s been right from the start.”

Tears prickle and burn his eyes, and he longs to run into the pub and pull Harry down from that stage and bring him home.  To kiss him senseless and whisper apologies against his ears, his lips, his thighs.  To hold onto him tighter than he’s ever held anything in his life.  He stays still.  Silent, save for the quiet sobs he can’t contain.

“Will we get out of this little hell?” Harry sings over and over, signaling the end of the song, his voice raw and pained and delicate.  “Will we get out of this little hell?”

A harsh sob wracks Louis’ body away from the cold wall, and he tears himself away further to walk down the street.  He can’t go in until Harry is finished.  He has to give him that.  But he can’t listen to this any longer.  He sinks down to the curb, his feet flat on the pavement, his arms wrapped around his bent knees.  He’s cold, but he doesn’t really care.  Can’t really feel it.

He’s close enough to hear the music blending into the darkness but far enough that words aren’t discernible.  He rests his heavy head on his arms, shivering every so often, either from the cold or from the eerily beautiful sound of sad songs and scattered applause heard through walls and glass.

“He said you’d be here.”

Louis whips his head up and around, finding Ed walking his way slowly, cautiously.  As if he thinks he might scare him off.  “What?” he forces out, his throat closing tightly around the word.

“He knew you’d be here.”

“How could he know that?”

Ed shrugs casually.  “I don’t know.  You are, though.”

Louis nods warily, not really sure what to say next.  He turns back to stare at the empty street as Ed wanders over to sit beside him, pulling his knees up to his chest and running his hands over his jean-clad legs for warmth.

“’S cold, mate.  Why don’t you come inside?”

Louis huffs out a pained laugh that’s not really a laugh at all.  “You know why.”

Ed reaches into his coat pocket and produces a smashed pack of smokes and a lighter.  He offers them to Louis and takes one for himself.  They both light up, the red-orange embers glowing across their faces with every drag.  Neither of them talk as they work through the cigarettes slowly and stamp them out on the hard ground beside their feet.

It’s quiet for a long time before Ed takes in an audible breath and stands abruptly, his hands in his coat pockets.  He keeps his eyes off Louis, his gaze focused on some nothing across the street.  “He knows you love him.”

Louis can’t get any words out, but it doesn’t seem like Ed had expected him to.

“The only question is whether you know he loves you.  And if that is enough.”  And with that, he turns on his heels and disappears back into the pub.

Time passes.  Music drifts down the street.  Louis’ tears dry, and his heartbeat fluctuates between normal and chaotic with each new thought.  Finally, the sound of applause is all that can be heard from inside the pub, and Louis’ stomach drops.  This is it.

He pushes himself up, dusting off his bum and straightening his coat.  He wipes his hands over his cold face, hoping the simple, halfhearted motion smears any tear tracks that may still be noticeable.

The moment his fingers touch the doorknob, the door swings open, nearly knocking him over.  He moves to let the person past, but he doesn’t need to.  This person came for him.

The warm air of the pub wafts through Harry’s hair, bringing the scent of his shampoo to Louis’ nose.  Harry lets the door close behind him slowly, and the amber light is drowned out by the darkness.  The moon shines just bright enough that Harry’s eyes still sparkle.  But Louis doesn’t like it right now.  Because they’re not sparkling, they’re shimmering with tears.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”  He says it as steadily as he can, all of his concentration on not crying again, not choking on the words.  Harry just watches him silently, his lips in a tight line.  “I’m sorry.  I love you.”  Harry still doesn’t say a single word.  After a considerably long silence, “Please say something.”

“I love you, too,” he finally says.  His voice is nearly a whisper.  Louis’ heart jumps with hope, but the expression on Harry’s face does not encourage that hope to grow.  And then he keeps talking, and all hope is gone.  “But I can’t do this anymore.”

“Haz, please,” Louis pleads in quiet desperation, the goal of holding back tears dashed and forgotten.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says.  “I think you should go.”

“Harry—”

“I just…I want you to know I’m not angry with you.”  He reaches toward the door and pulls it open just enough for a line of warm yellow light to pass over Louis’ face.  Harry looks at him for a long moment, and Louis almost pulls him back, almost expects Harry to stay.

“I guess I just forgot,” he says, his lips turned up in a barely-there smile.  It’s not a smile of amusement but of wistfulness, of sad acceptance.

Louis swallows around the rock in his throat, and forces himself to ask the question.  “Forgot what?”

Harry shakes his head, a tiny reaction that wouldn’t be noticed if Louis weren’t primed to his every movement.  He turns around and walks back into the pub as his last words materialize into a dagger pierced through Louis’ heart.

“How badly the sun can burn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love City and Colour, so y'know. Go listen to this song, it's very beautiful.  
> Don't fret, my darlings. Only a couple of chapters to go. <3


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short, but it's the set up for the ending. Hope you enjoy!  
> Please let me know what you think! I love, love, love reading your comments!  
> I can't believe we're almost done! This has been such a rewarding journey, and I can't thank y'all enough for all the love and support. <3

Louis wakes groggily to a familiar but surprising view.  His family’s living room comes into focus as he blinks his eyes sleepily.  The sun has only just begun its morning ascent, shadows moving through the room as the early light invades.

“Morning, baby bear,” his mum says quietly, bending down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.  She walks across the room and into the kitchen, filling the kettle at the sink and placing it gently on the burner.

Louis stretches his tired muscles and throws the blanket from his body, joining her.  “I woke up confused,” he chuckles, leaning against the counter.

“Why’s that?” she smiles, clearly amused as she takes in the image of her son, hair a mess, pillowcase lines on his cheeks.

“Just forgot I came over, is all.  ‘M sorry about being so late.  Barging in.”

“This is your home, you big goof.  You’re always welcome here.  Now,” she says, pulling cups down from a cabinet, “what’s on your mind?”

The kettle begins to steam, and Louis knows he’ll have twelve arms around him any minute now.

Last night, he’d been too devastated to really make any kind of plan other than _get him back by any means necessary_.  Now, it is time to do just that.

“I have to prove it this time.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Louis smiles.  For the first time since that awful night, he smiles.  “I have a few ideas.”

Minutes later, the kitchen is filled with smiling, sleepy faces.  After giving each of his siblings hugs, he sneaks away into his bedroom.  He pulls his phone from his pocket, thankful for the small charge still there, and sets his plan into action.

“Tommo!  What’s up?”

“I need your help.”

“Alright.  With what?”

“I need you to teach me how to play guitar.  By Friday.”

Niall chuckles lightheartedly.  “Piece of cake.”

Louis smiles, hope growing in his chest.  “Is that a yes?”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Harry, would it?”

“Of course not.”

Nialls laughs again, loudly this time.  “Can you come to London?”

{~~~}

The weekend goes like this:  driving to London, choosing one song to learn just well enough to play without constantly fucking up, getting aggravated with Niall when he has one too many pints to be a proper instructor, proving he knows the basic chords so that Niall lets him leave to practice more at home, driving home, a total lack of sleep the night before the start of the work week.

He has five days.  And it has to be perfect.

His kids are a nightmare all week.  Skyping Niall for guitar practice is the most annoying thing ever.  He’s got callouses on his fingers and a hint of a headache.  He misses Harry.

Thursday finally comes, and it’s time for part two of the plan.  He walks into the small shop he’s never actually been in before to find an old friend he hasn’t seen in far too long.

This was probably a dumb idea.  Out of wanting to surprise him, he didn’t book an appointment.  He might not even have time.

He turns around, his long, black hair falling off his shoulder, the change in position revealing half-finished art under his hands.  His face breaks out in a surprised smile, one Louis can’t help but return, shining brighter than the neon sign high up on the wall.  _Aoki’s Ink_.

“Holy shit!  Louis!”

An awkward laugh, “Hey, Steve.”

“What the hell are you doing here?!”  He stands from his stool, immediately wrapping Louis up in a tight hold.  “It’s been ages!”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure.  But if you’re here for what I think you’re here for, we have plenty of time.”

Louis smiles, the ache in his cheeks welcome.  “You sure you can fit me in?”

“Yeah, for sure!  Only have one other appointment tonight.  What are you thinking?”

A short conversation and a bit of prep later, and Louis is sat in a chair, a needle to his wrist.

“Can you talk while you do this or do you need to concentrate?” Louis asks with a laugh, trying not to move as he does so.

“Nah, man, I can talk.  So tell me what’s going on.  When did you come back?”

“Over a year ago.  After I finished uni.  I’m teaching now.  Little ones.”  The words come out short as the needle pushes into his skin, the light pain moving with Steve’s slow strokes.

“And I’m just seeing you now?”  He wipes over the ink, smearing it a little, and looks up.  “I’m hurt.”

Louis grins.  “I’m sorry.  It’s been…a lot can happen in a year.”

It’s quiet between them for a minute while Steve works on an area of shading.

“So, um…sorry if this is not my business, but…I have to ask,” Steve starts, clearly uncomfortable but not enough to stop him from asking.  Louis doesn’t mind.  He’s known him forever.  They both have.  “I did Harry’s anchor.”

Louis breathes in a steady breath, preparing himself for this conversation.  “I know.”

“So are you two..?”

“We were, and then we weren’t.  And then we were.”

“And now?”

Louis points at his stinging wrist, his skin red under Steve’s gloved fingers.  “It’s permanent, innit?  Forever?”

Steve smiles, amusement in his voice.  “Afraid so.”

Louis can’t help the smile on his face or the tears welling in his eyes.  His heart beats strongly in his chest, whispered promises echoing in his mind.  “So are we.”

“Happy to hear it.”  His smile is so genuine.  “You guys belong together.  You always have.”

Louis nods, his heart beating in his chest, his pulse quick in his wrist.  “I think so, too.”

Steve wipes over his new tattoo until the spilled ink is gone, revealing a knotted rope.   So,” he says, bandaging his tender wrist, “it seems you probably know the rules judging by your not-so-blank arms, but keep the bandage on for a few hours.  Wash with unscented soap, lotion after a few days.  No swimming, no direct sunlight.”

Louis chuckles, “I know, I know.”

Steve’s hand moves up his arm to this collection of tattoos on his covering his skin.  “This isn’t new,” he says, confusion wrinkling his brow as his fingers brush over the compass.

“Nope.”

He takes his hand away and slides backward on his stool, gathering up his tools and any garbage.  He begins sanitizing his station, and Louis watches him silently, sees him taking new and old information, putting all of the pieces together, figuring it out.

“Do you know how bizarre that is?” he asks incredulously.

Louis laughs, “Yeah.  Pretty wild.”

“Some type of soulmate bullshit,” he says, shaking his head on a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh.

“We are pretty sickening, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, still smiling.  “Just let me do the next set together, yeah?”

Louis clasps his hand in Steve’s, smiling brightly.  His wrist is sore, and his fingers hurt, and his throat is tight, and his eyes are burning, trying to hold in tears.  But he’s got hope in his heart, and that’s all he needs right now.

“You’ve got a deal.”


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The last chapter! It's a bit longer than the others to give you a (hopefully) satisfactory ending! There will be an epilogue, and I won't rule out the possibility of a timestamp or two sometime in the future, but this is the end of this part of our boys' journey back to each other!
> 
> Endless thanks to all of my readers who have kept up with this and given me reasons to smile with their questions and exclamations of frustration and happiness and every other emotion known to man. Special shout out to those of you who have been with me from the very beginning. You know who you are, and I do too, and I could not be more grateful for your support.
> 
> And last but certainly not least, I have to say thank you to my darling daughter Meg. You are a beautiful human, and I love you more than apple pie. Not a lot of people qualify because I really, really love apple pie. Thank you for being my biggest cheerleader through this and all things. I love you.
> 
> If this story made you smile, please reblog my [ Tumblr post](http://larryandgaystuff.tumblr.com/post/164987528959/petrichor-by-larryandgaystuff-140k-complete). I appreciate your love and enthusiasm for this story more than you could ever imagine. I will be publishing several one-shots for fic challenges and exchanges over the next few months and I'm working on ideas for my next story, so stay tuned!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> All my love,  
> CeCe <3

“Okay, so you’re sure this is going to work?”

Ed runs his fingers through his bright hair, clearly trying not to strangle him.  “Louis, I know what I’m doing.  The sign is off, the curtains are drawn, and you playing alone won’t attract anyone, I promise.”

“Oi, fuck off,” Louis chuckles, nerves dissipating for a moment.  “I’m getting quite good, I think.”

“Mate, trust me.  You’re not,” Ed snorts, gently punching his shoulder and moving to finish setting up the pub.

“Remind me why we couldn’t tell Liam?” Louis asks as he lowers the microphone so it will be even with his lips when he sits on the stool kicked to the side of the stage.  “We have no idea when Harry’s going to get here.  He could have sent us a warning text.”

“Payne couldn’t be sneaky if his life depended on it.  He’ll be here soon, just hurry up.”

When Louis finally manages to arrange the stage perfectly and begin picking at his borrowed guitar with shaky fingers, hoping it’s still tuned properly, he takes a moment to glance around the room.  No light but the soft glow of jarred candles bouncing on tabletops.  Quiet where there is usually laughter and casual conversation fueled by cheap whiskey and old friendship.

Ed finishes cleaning the bar and steps up to the front of the stage, reaching his hand out to settle on Louis’ knee bouncing restlessly.  “Time to prove him wrong,” he says with a small smile.

Louis grins, nervous but hopeful.  “Thank you.  For everything.”

Ed pulls away and turns to walk toward the back exit.  He says over his shoulder, “I’m glad I could provide a romantic setting for your dramatics.”  He’s gone before Louis can get out a sarcastic response.

All there is left to do is wait.  Wait for Harry to show up, to walk through the heavy wooden door and see him, alone on the stage with a guitar.  He tries to imagine how he’ll react, hoping, perhaps beyond reason, for relief, for understanding.

His palms are sweaty, his fingers shaking against the cool surface of the instrument.  He practices his speech in his head, even though he knows the rehearsed lines probably won’t be what comes out when he finally sees him.  He just has to hope that whatever he says is enough to make Harry stay.  To let him know that he will never stop loving him.

His throat is dry, his heart beating against his ribs with an aching intensity.  He can’t move, though.  He has to be sitting here, ready to talk, ready to play, ready to prove everything, when Harry walks through that door.

He’s surely walking here now, coming closer each second as Louis sits quietly silencing his demons.  He’s probably wearing something loose and flowy, buttons open at his smooth chest, his tightest jeans, and his favorite boots.  He must look like a dream floating down the sidewalk, his long hair tousled by the wind.  And he’ll be here any moment.

Louis pushes the sleeves of his jumper up to his elbows, making sure the rope newly inked on his wrist will be on display as he strums.  He wonders if Harry will notice, if he’ll like it.  Panic spikes like fire in his blood for a split second before he calmly douses the flames.  He will.

A shadow appears behind the pale curtains, and Louis’ breath leaves his body in a rush.  He must be confused, curious as to why the pub appears to be closed, why the noise of his familiar audience isn’t leaking through the brick walls.  His silhouette moves past the window, and it is only a few seconds before the door creaks open.  Louis distractedly thinks that he’s never heard it creak before, realizing that it is because it is usually deafening in this small, usually cramped room.

Harry steps inside, letting the door fall closed behind him, and it takes Louis a moment to react, unable to do much else but gaze at him and try not to cry.  He looks tired, like he has been tired for a long time.  He looks confused, and maybe even a little scared, emotions that clearly rose to the surface upon seeing Louis.  He’s traded his beautiful blouses for an old t-shirt.  He looks like a work of art.  He always does.  But tonight, here in this dimly lit, empty pub, he’s a painting Louis can’t help but cry for.

“Harry…” he manages to plead, but his throat closes around his next words.  He takes a moment to breathe, giving Harry a little time to adjust, to become more comfortable with the situation after being taken by surprise.

After a minute, “You don’t have to say anything.”  Harry hasn’t, but he also hasn’t taken his eyes off of Louis since he entered the room.  “I…I’m just here to prove it.  To prove everything.”

His voice is weak, and he’s genuinely worried the music will have to work on its own, unsure he’ll be able to sing.  But he has to.  He has to say the words.

Harry’s eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly.  He looks away for the first time in what feels like years and seconds, glancing around the pub.  He sets his guitar on the nearest table but stays standing, hands shoved awkwardly in his jacket pockets.

Louis focuses on his finger placement for just a moment, running through the chords in his head one last time.  Calling on his bravery, he gives Harry a small smile before he starts playing.  Harry doesn’t quite smile back.  But the corner of his mouth twitches, his pink lips just begging to be kissed.  If this is enough, if he could ever possibly be enough, Louis will get to be the one who kisses them.

His newly calloused fingers move against the strings, missing a few notes in the beginning but not worrying about it in the slightest because Harry has already figured out the song and his first real smile comes when Louis fumbles three chords in a row.

Louis smiles, looking down at his instrument, determined to get through this, even if he has to do so with a stupid grin on his face and tears shining in his eyes.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat one last time, he starts to sing.  “Sometimes I wake up with the sadness, other days it feels like madness.  Oh, what would I do without you?”

He doesn’t allow himself to look at the man across from him as he sings.  He knows it won’t help regardless of how Harry might be reacting.  Tears in Harry’s eyes, hopeful or full of sadness, would be the end of Louis’ performance.  So he continues, feigning a higher degree of concentration than is necessarily true.

“A decade goes by without a warning, and there’s still a kindness in your eyes.  Amidst the questions and the worries, a peace of mind always takes me by surprise.”

Chords and lyrics and _don’t look at him_ and _you’re all I want, so much it’s hurting_ fighting for attention in Louis’ mind as he tries to keep his fingers nimble and his voice steady.

The last verse is the most important, those words the ones dancing in his mind for the past week as he formulated and enacted his plan.  He’s practiced the transition from looking at the guitar to looking straight at Harry as he sings the end of the song, his fingers moving without sight.  He might fuck it up, but it doesn’t matter.  As long as he sees Harry and Harry sees him when he says what he’s needed to say for a long, long time, nothing else matters.

One deep breath in as his fingers move on their own, and he lifts his head.  Harry is watching intently, and just as Louis had suspected, had hoped for and prayed not to see, his eyes are shining with tears.  As if their bodies were connected, a tear rolls down Louis’ heated cheek, and Harry smiles, light leaking out of him as he chuckles and wipes the back of his hand over his face. And in that moment, Louis somehow knows that he will never have to come up with an answer to his next question.  He’ll never have to be without him.

“So you’ve got the morning, I’ve got midnight.  You are patient, I’m always on time.  Oh, what would I do without you?”

Harry takes a step, then another, moving closer to the stage.  Ever nearer, never close enough.

“You’ve got your sunshine, I’ve got rainclouds.  You’ve got hope, I’ve got my doubts.  Oh, what would I do without you?”

It takes everything in him to strum the next notes, staying where he is to finish the song rather than set the guitar on the stage and run to Harry.  Harry, who isn’t trying to hide his smile anymore.  His Harry, who looks believing and so, so happy.

The last chord is played with shaky, sore fingers, and he lifts his instrument, ducking his head to let its strap fall.  He places it as gently as he can manage on the stool and hops down from the stage.

Harry takes the first step forward as they look at one another silently, the soft melody still floating through the still air.

Louis takes a breath, preparing to take the next step, to bring them closer, close enough to reach out and touch.  But before he has the chance, Harry is already there, pulling Louis into his chest.  A desperate sob too loud for the candlelit pub interrupts the quiet, and Louis doesn’t know if the sound came from Harry’s tear-soaked lips or his own numb throat.  But he doesn’t care, as long as Harry holds him like this, like he’ll never let go ever again.

Minutes pass, and nothing happens.  And they are the happiest minutes of Louis’ life.  Gentle hands running over curves, tears soaking through cotton and onto skin, quiet, shaky breathing the only sound in the room as the light from the candles dance around their embrace.

Harry pulls away, hands still around Louis’ waist, toes nudging Louis’ as he stays close.  He smiles, prompting a giggle and another tear from Louis.  “Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hi,” Louis breathes, relief flooding every cell in his body.

“I missed you so much.”

Louis doesn’t respond, isn’t even given the chance as Harry’s lips are suddenly pressed against his own.  The kiss should be frantic, but it’s everything else.  It’s oddly calm, perfect in its promise of forever.  Passion and relief and more love than is imaginable if you’ve never felt it yourself.

When Louis pulls away for breath, it is only because of the weight of the small box in his pocket, its round edges digging into his skin for the week it has been there, reminding him all the while what he was fighting for.

“Harry…” he starts, not wanting to wait another second.

“You got another tattoo, I see,” Harry interrupts, the cocky grin on his face in perfect juxtaposition with the dried tear tracks painting his cheeks.  He raises Louis’ hand to his own heart and his own wrist to Louis’ chest, their bodies so close that the designs touch between them to look like one.

Louis smiles, “Steve demands that he be allowed to do our next set together.”

A chuckle, “Wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”

They smile at each other, their hands against one another’s hearts, and Louis never wants to let him go, but there is one last thing he needs to do.

He steps away, and Harry follows his movement, leaning toward him until he sees the look of determination on Louis’ face.

“Harry…Haz.  I love you.  I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.  I’ll love you until the end of this life and through the next one, wherever that may be.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, his lips twitching up into an amused smile.  “I love you, too.”

“Even the sun sees rainy days.  But I promise to hang on through the storms, just to see the moonlight.  If you’ll have me.”

With his heart on fire, his lungs running on the fumes, he slips his hand into his pocket and sinks to one knee on the floor of the pub.  The smiles grow on both of their faces as Louis grasps the box tightly in his hand and gazes up toward his beautiful boy.

“Baby…you are my everything,” he says, nearly on a whisper, loosening his fist to open the box and present the thin band of white gold hiding inside.  “Please marry me.”

Harry doesn’t make a sound for several seconds, and Louis’ entire world should be crashing down around him in that silence, but it isn’t.  Because he knows, without a single doubt, that he is finally doing something right.

Harry kneels down in front of Louis, their faces even once more.  “Louis,” he says, his voice matching Louis’ in its softness, as if to avoid disturbing the atmosphere.  There is movement in the corner of his eye, but his focus is entirely on Harry’s lips, the way they look around his name.  “I’ll marry you on one condition,” he says, raising his hand between them, his palm open to the ceiling, a small gold ring shining in the darkened room.  “Will you marry me back?”

Fresh tears well in Louis’ eyes as he comes to understand, and all he wants to do is throw his arms around Harry’s neck and let him carry him home.  To _their_ home.

But first, “Yes,” he breathes, so quiet and true, a smile breaking out across Harry’s face once more.  “Yes,” he giggles, leaky and desperately happy.  “Yes, of course, yes!”

Harry stands, pulling Louis up with him, and kisses him.  His big hands come up to run through Louis’ hair, his nose inhaling deeply as their lips grow chapped against each other’s.  The kiss is mostly smiles, their lips missing their targets, teeth clacking together amidst quiet laughter.  It’s the best kiss of Louis’ life.

Harry is the first to pull away, resting his forehead against Louis’ as they breathe together.  Another long moment, and Harry takes Louis’ hand, wordlessly slipping the ring onto his finger.  Louis mimics his actions, taking Harry’s hand in his own for an even exchange.

Without warning, Louis is suddenly pressed against Harry, his legs wrapped around his slender hips, Harry’s arms holding him tightly around the waist as he looks up to kiss him.  “We’re engaged,” he says with a bright smile.

Louis laughs, peppering his face with sweet kisses, moving down to his neck as Harry’s moves them toward the door.  “Let’s go home,” he breathes against his lips, “my fiancé.”

The walk to their flat takes longer than usual with the frequent breaks they take to push one another up against various brick walls and wooden fences, kissing slowly one minute, fiercely the next.  Louis spends a few minutes of the journey slumped over Harry’s back, arms around his neck as he presses soft kisses behind his ear, letting Harry carry him home.

Desperation sets in when they walk through the door.  They gaze at one another as they remove their shoes and socks, allowing the tension to rise.  And then Louis is letting Harry crash into him lips first as he pants against the wall.

“Missed you so much, Lou,” Harry breathes, his voice rough around the edges.  “Fuck.  Need you so bad, baby.  Love you,” he rambles.

“Bed.  Now,” Louis demands.  He’s got plans for this beautiful boy in his arms.

“Yes, fuck yes,” Harry says, prompting a giggle from Louis as he’s picked up and brought through the living room toward their bedroom.

Harry trips because of course he does, but he recovers quickly, cradling Louis’ head as he cranes his neck for kisses.

“Love you so much, _God_ ,” Louis pants, aching with want.

He’s lowered to the bed, and he watches in silence as Harry removes his jacket.  He doesn’t move to shed his own.  He knows how much Harry loves to undress him.  A small smile creeps onto his face as Harry gazes at him knowingly.

“That’s how it’s going to be?” Harry asks with a sly grin.

Louis nods, smiling.  “That’s how it’s always going to be.”

Harry lunges toward him, left only in his jeans and old t-shirt, his hair falling loosely around his face.  He moans, “Thank God.”

He grabs Louis’ waist and moves him further across the bed, straddling his hips.  Louis stays pliant as Harry works to remove his arms from their sleeves, arching his back as he slides it out from under his body.

He loses his shirt next, Harry’s warm hands grazing his skin, goosebumps covering his body at the light touch.  Harry leans in closer to allow Louis to pull his shirt over his head, his curls getting caught momentarily before falling to tickle Louis’ neck.

Harry takes his time kissing down Louis’ neck, across his collarbones, around his nipples.  He stops at the thin line of soft hair below his navel, popping the button on his jeans and tugging them down efficiently, letting them fall to the floor with a dull thud.  He stands to remove his own, tugging them down with the force needed for such tight jeans, stepping out of them to return to Louis immediately.

Nothing between them but the soft material of Louis’ briefs and Harry’s worn boxers, Louis’ skin tingles everywhere Harry touches.  His lungs are burning, screaming for oxygen, but kissing Harry feels more important than the need to breathe.  His lips are sore, his neck bruised from Harry’s lips, his eyes tired from crying.  This is happiness.

Harry keeps his lips on Louis’ as he dips his fingers inside of Louis’ pants, his soft touch traveling across a cheek and moving to his hair, wrapping around his hard cock.  He’s leaking already, and upon discovering this, Harry halts his movements to take off his briefs, throwing them to the floor with the rest of their wardrobe.

“So beautiful, baby,” he whispers, returning to his lips for another kiss.

“Need you,” Louis whimpers.  “Please, Haz.”  He swallows thickly, using Harry’s words.  “Make love to me.”

“I’ve got you, love.  I’m right here.”

Louis tugs down on Harry’s boxers distractedly, doing it more to get Harry to spare a moment to take them off than to actually succeed himself.  “Off.  C’mon.”

Harry groans, pulling away from Louis’ lips for just long enough to get naked.  He smiles, “Happy now?”

Louis smiles, can feel the crinkles by his eyes, can see his own brightness reflected in Harry’s evergreen eyes.  “So happy.”

The duvet is cool against his bare skin, but the cooler air is still shocking when it hits his back as he rolls Harry onto his back, straddling his hips to kiss him deeply.  They move as one to lie correctly on the bed, Harry’s head resting on the pillow that will gloriously smell like him again.  He takes his time breathing him in, sucking bruises onto Harry’s jaw, before he crawls down his body, giving him one last glance from below before bringing his mouth to Harry’s cock.

He licks the length, pausing to suckle at the head gently, one hand around the base and the other resting on his hipbone, his thumb no doubt leaving a bruise as he holds him down on the bed.  He works over him diligently, a goal in mind.  Harry is moaning obscenely, and when Louis looks up, his face is hidden under his arms, his hands tangled in his own hair pressed to the pillow.

When Harry’s thighs start shaking around his head, Louis grants him reprieve, crawling up, hovering over him to finish what their lips started.

Harry’s breath hitches as Louis’ tongue slips into his mouth, and Louis almost laughs.  He’s had his lips wrapped around Harry’s cock for the past ten minutes, but a little tongue action during a kiss makes him lose it.  He couldn’t love him more.  He probably will tomorrow.

“Want you to fuck me,” Louis whispers, shaking against him in anticipation.

Harry nods, the most elegant response he seems to be able to muster in his current state.  Louis places his hands against Harry’s shoulders and pulls him on top as his own back settles against the now-warm duvet.

“I’m yours,” he breathes against Harry’s trembling lips.  “And you’re mine.”

Harry nods again, kissing him once more, with purpose.  “Forever.”

Louis doesn’t respond, just lets himself be kissed as Harry’s fingers travel down his sides, over his cock, further.  Harry pulls away to reach toward the bedside table, wrenching the drawer open violently to search for lube.  Drizzling a liberal amount directly onto Louis, he slicks his fingers against Louis’ skin, rubbing along his sensitive opening and gently pressing until a single finger dips inside.

Louis’ breathing becomes erratic as he waits impatiently for more, pushing back against Harry’s finger, silently begging for another as Harry works him to the edge of madness.

Finally, he gives him what he wants, letting another finger slip inside him, massaging his walls, crooking his fingers in search of the spot that will make Louis scream.  He adds another, but the burn of the stretch of three of Harry’s huge fingers aren’t the reason for the tears leaking from the corners of Louis’ eyes.  Harry hasn’t noticed, his attention fully on Louis’ arse, the movement of his fingers inside of him.

Harry bends his fingers and presses against his prostate, and a violent sob wracks Louis’ chest as his back arches, leaving the bed completely.

“Fuck!” he shouts, his lungs collapsing under the stress of trying to breathe while Harry takes him apart.

Harry must sense that Louis would come without much more, pulling his third finger out and continuing to scissor the first two without any pressure on his prostate until he deems him sufficiently prepped.

He moves to kiss him again, his torso sliding against Louis’s sweaty skin.  “Ready?”

Louis nods once, catching Harry’s head with his hands, sliding his fingers into his hair as he pulls him down for a passionate kiss.  “Please.”

Harry doesn’t pull away this time, but lines himself up while keeping their lips attached.  He slowly pushes inside, pulling out once to come back a little faster, until they’re wholly connected.  He thrusts a few times, gentle and steady, before seeing something that makes him still for a moment.

Louis looks at him curiously.  “What?”

“You’re crying.”

“I’m just…” he closes his eyes, the love shining in Harry’s too much to take in at the moment.  “It’s a lot.  Didn’t know if it would be enough.”

“We’ve had this discussion,” he says quietly, Louis all too aware of the feeling of Harry deep inside him as he speaks.  “You’re more than enough.”

Louis opens his eyes again, allowing Harry to see his every thought.  “I love you.”

The line on Harry’s forehead disappears and a smile grows on his lips as he dips to kiss him, moving his hips again.  “I love you more.”

Louis smiles against his kiss and tugs on a handful of curls.  He wraps his legs around Harry’s body, heels digging into his back, urging him to move.  Faster, harder, deeper.  “Not… _oh_ …not possible,” he breathes as Harry starts to fuck into him like he needs.

Neither of them say a word, not an exclamation or whimpered plea, as they move together, eyes glued to one another’s, breathing in the other’s exhaled air.  The sparks shooting up Louis’ spine with every brush of Harry’s cock against his prostate do nothing to take away from the serenity of the room.  It almost seems unreal.  The calmness.  No fear, no sadness, no space between them.  They’re going to be okay.

Harry’s breathing grows louder, harsher against Louis’ cheek, his plump lips sucking bruises onto his neck only to pull away after each one, breathing hard as if he hasn’t had oxygen for years.  He focuses his attention directly against Louis’ windpipe for what feels like an hour but is actually probably only about a minute, and when he lifts his head to connect their eyes once more, Louis realizes with a rush that he wasn’t breathing.  He breathes in deeply, the sudden rush of oxygen pushing him suddenly closer to the edge.  He won’t last much longer, and there is nothing he wants more than for them to come together.

“Come for me, baby,” Louis whimpers.  “Make me yours.”

“You are mine,” Harry growls.

Louis can’t help but smile, “Prove it.”

A delicious, familiar heat unfurls in Louis’ body as he climbs higher and higher, his neglected cock hard and leaking onto his own stomach, precome smeared all over Harry’s front from where he is rubbing against him.  Harry’s forearms on either side of his head, his face nearly pressed against his own makes it hard to breathe, the air heavy around them.

Harry’s hips stutter as he reaches his peak, a loud moan dripping down Louis’ throat as he swallows his sounds, his own mixing to create the most beautiful melody as he feels Harry spill inside him.  The feeling of Harry’s warm release into his body pushes him past the threshold, and he comes with Harry’s name on his lips, shaking inside the cocoon Harry has created around them, holding him together as they both come down from their highs.

When they are both breathing properly again, Harry pulls out slowly, kissing Louis quiet to distract from any uncomfortable sensation.  He reaches over the side of the bed and comes back with his t-shirt, gently wiping up the mess covering their spent bodies.

Once clean, they lie together in comfortable silence, facing one another, fingers intertwined atop the spoiled duvet.  Louis’ never been so happy to know he’ll be washing his sheets tomorrow.  Maybe Harry will make out with him in the laundry room while they wait.

The thought makes him smile, and Harry smiles back.  “What are you thinking about?”

A giggle escapes his throat, “Snogging you while I’m sitting on the washing machine.”

Harry laughs, “A little random, innit?”

“You’re so bloody sweaty, you ruined my duvet.”

“Sorry,” Harry says, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, visible in the moonlight shining through the window.  “Was that makeup sex or engagement sex?”

“Both, I guess,” Louis says, taking a deep breath and sighing comfortably, sinking further into the softness of their bed.

“No wonder I feel like I’m still coming.  Jesus Christ.”

Quiet laughter turns to gentle kisses, fingers tracing senseless patterns on warm skin.

Harry eventually turns over, pressing his back into Louis’ front.  Louis has already begun to surrender to sleep, exhaustion settling into his bones.  When he feels Harry squirm, he wraps his arm around his middle, pulling him closer.  He rests his face against Harry’s shoulder, his nose scrunching up on his skin, breathing in the smell of him.  Candied fruit and sex and something that’s simply Harry.

Louis remembers the first time he ever smelled it, that light muskiness, sweet and salty like caramel.  He’s never forgotten it.  Never had a chance all the years they spent most night tangled in one another under sheets that changed with the years, love in their hearts that changed as well.  Held onto it, and the feel of Harry’s skin, the glow of his warm, green eyes, through their years apart, remembering every detail, keeping him close any way he could.  And now that he has it again, he’ll never let it go.

Minutes later, Harry speaks quietly, once again pulling Louis from a half-sleep.  “Have to go get my stuff tomorrow.  And Gracie.”

Louis smiles against Harry’s shoulder.  “I missed your big, dumb dog.”

Harry chuckles quietly, “ _Our_ big, dumb dog missed you, too.”

“We’ll go together,” Louis mumbles, sleep dragging him down.  “Not gonna be able to let you go, I’m afraid.”

Harry nods slowly, and Louis can’t see him, but he knows he’s smiling.

Louis is, too.  Because this is how it will be.  For the rest of their lives.  Planning their days.  Arguing and forgiving and forgetting everything else when they find each other again beneath the sheets.  Surviving every storm and dancing in the rain.  Escaping the pain, but always together.  Holding each other tight, warm and safe and real.  Falling asleep and falling in love every night.

Forever.


End file.
